


Did You Miss Me?

by Sherlocked and Loaded (imnotdoneyetap)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Assassin Mary, Betrayal, Crime Fighting, Earning Trust, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fluff, Jim Returns, Making the Plot As I Go, Mary Ships It, Mary's Past, Minor Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty, Mistaken Identity, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlock is a Brat, female sebastian moran, mention of Irene adler, post-season 3, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:18:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 31,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5570935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotdoneyetap/pseuds/Sherlocked%20and%20Loaded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty is alive and Sherlock doesn't know where to start to eliminate the threat he thought he had neutralized. Then his best friend, John Watson, is busy being a husband and soon to be father. Then there's this woman who seems to tangle herself into their lives knowing every single little thing about them. Not only does she know Sherlock and John by a first name basis but she also knows Irene, Mary, and oddly enough Mycroft. Is this woman a threat or just what Sherlock needed to defeat Moriarty once in for all? And will he find himself falling for this woman who seems to change her name the same way Ms.Hudson changes her lipstick shade? Only time could tell if she is friend or foe and if they will ever be free of the madman Moriarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Get Sherlock!

            The London air was crisp and cold. The woman walked at a decent pace but she was in a rush. He always rounded this corner around 8:17 in a Tuesday morning. He and his companion were always in a hurry, which made her job easy. She didn’t bother trying to hide her identity. That was the whole point in her mission.

           The woman with dark hair and rosy cheeks saw them rounding the corner. The path was crowded so she slipped between the couple who were late to their jobs and avoided the upcoming bicycle rider. Her window was quickly closing so she quickened her pace and managed to time her collision with the coat-wearing detective.

            “Sorry,” she muttered in a believable British accent. Her hand slipped to his coat pocket grabbed his wallet and slipped out. The detective brushed her off and his companion didn’t bother to even glance at her.

            She started to walk away pocketing the wallet when her hand got caught. She turned around to find the detective looking at her annoyed and his companion turning at her confused.

            “You took something of mine. I’ll like it back.” Sherlock tells her. She simply smiled and pulled his wallet out. He tries to take it from her but she flicks her hand back.

            “The great Sherlock Holmes. You’re as clever as I’ve seen you been.”

            Sherlock looked at the woman closer. He took notice of her designer clothes, her freshly cut hair, and that slight tan line that she almost managed to hide. Why would this woman ever want to take his wallet when she obviously had money of her own?

Sherlock replayed what she said and took hint of the slight American accent and the words she decided to use. _Seen._ She had _seen_ him and that reminded him of a certain someone that was supposed to be dead.

            “Who are you?” he asks her.

            “Me?” she asks happily. “Well I’m nobody. I have been for a while now.”

            She leans in and reverse pickpockets him. The wallet slipped into his coat pocket and so did three pictures. Sherlock watched her closely as she placed his wallet back in place. He had yet to take in account of the weightless pieces of paper but either way she slipped away before he noticed. His hand slipped into his pocket and felt the crackling of paper. He pulled the folded sheets of paper and John peered at them curiously.

            “What is it Sherlock?”

            He unfolds the pictures that were so neatly folded. _OCD,_ he thought and _over-calculative._ The printed pictures show words he thought were left behind for a long time. Except that now it was possible that they were real. After reading the words on the page he started to walk towards the brunette woman who was disappearing quickly in the crowds.

            “Sherlock!” John says grasping the papers that the detective had let go. The photos flew to the ground and John quickly picked them up. He read what was on them and began to follow after the detective but it was no use. He and the woman had disappeared in the morning rush.

            The detective followed her and took notice of how well she was doing in avoiding him. She had a training of some sorts. Maybe she was one of Mycroft’s and then there was the most likeable possibility that she wasn’t. Mycroft didn’t hire Americans. So who could she be?  

            She knew he was right behind her. She knew he would follow after her so she planned ahead. She took all of the turns that led her to the busiest streets. She ducked, slipped, pushed and shoved her way to lose the great detective. The nameless woman knew that the best way to lose him was not to lose him at all.

            He walked down the street a couple of times swearing she came down this way. Sherlock threw his hands out and growled. The passerby looked at him strangely as he paced and muttered possibilities. _How did she get away? Better yet how did he lose her?_

            The woman smiled from her seat at the coffee shop. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. Sunglasses framed her face and the coat she was wearing was inside out to show the light yellow instead of the dark blue. A cup of coffee was in front of her and so was the day’s paper. She took a sip of her coffee and smiled as the detective walked by her not giving her a glance and left. He had so easily given up.

            She was a bit disappointed but nonetheless pleased. She had gotten away with her small mission and now she just had to wait. Trust was a tricky thing especially with a man like Sherlock Holmes. She knew that John Watson would be an easy target to conquer. He was recently married and soon to be a father. She knew what strings to play with him but Sherlock…Sherlock was going to be a challenge.

            He liked mystery. He liked games. He liked the chase.

            That’s how her boss did it and that’s why she knew she had to do it too. She despised having to follow after his step but it had to be that way. Sherlock would hate her but then he’ll trust her and then she’ll be safe. She would be safe and that was all it mattered. Perhaps even then she’ll find peace. Most likely not but a girl could only hope.

            She mindlessly played with the newspaper in front of her. The headlines have been the same for the past few days _Moriarty Lives._ A picture of the worldwide broadcast of his face was the main picture on the newspaper. It only made her shiver as she saw it but it didn’t invoke the same level of fear that the pictures she handed to Sherlock Holmes did.

_GET SHERLOCK!_

            It was spray-painted with yellow paint on a billboard across her apartment in L.A. She didn’t have to go to the painted sign to know what brand they used. Moriarty loved dramatic flares so of course he would use their past cases to scare her back to London.

            The second picture was the same phrase and the same brand of paint. This time it was painted on a brick wall across her hotel room. She couldn’t figure out how he managed to paint that there without her noticing but he managed it and now she was very afraid.

            Moriarty wasn’t dead. That was the first thing that showed her that something was wrong. The second thing was not contacting her when he came back. The third thing was threatening her back to London and threatening her once she was there.

            She didn’t know what she did wrong. She’s always been loyal and if he had called her she would have come running. He knew that and yet he didn’t call for her. Something was deeply wrong and she thought back the past two years to think of reasons as to what she did. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing that could be seen as a betrayal. Except for now.

            Now, she was running to aid the man who was supposed to be her enemy. She had to admit she missed this sort of excitement. She did love the boys in beach shorts and the late night drinks of piña coladas but nothing made her as happy when she was playing spy games and cleaning the old TAC-338 riffle.

            Yes she will miss her dear home country but nothing made her blood pump like London especially when her blood was pumping with fear of dying by the hands of her old boss that had recently come back from the dead. That was certainly a mouthful and so was the taste of hot black coffee in her mouth. She had stayed too long in the simple coffee shop and had to get out fast. She quickly placed a few pounds on the table and grabbed her newspaper and left.

            There was a light drizzle so she put on her hood and took of her sunglasses. She managed to steal an umbrella by helping said person into a cab and never returning it. She continued to walk down the sidewalk to her new hotel and could only think of the last picture that she had taken for Sherlock Holmes. That one put her life at risk but it was worth it.

            It was a picture of who Sherlock thought he managed to put away. Two years he spent trying to dissemble Moriarty’s league of villains and he thought that he got rid of all of them. Tiny exception, he never got to her and she was the most important one.

            She was known as Moriarty’s right hand man and that’s what everyone thought she was _a man_. That was why Sherlock never got to her and instead he found an illegal firearm tradesman in Russia. Sherlock imprisoned that man and now he was dead because of Moriarty. That picture gave him a hint to who she was and what he was up against. Moriarty always knew Sherlock was alive and he knew what he was up to. He’s been planning this for a long time and she was afraid of what Moriarty had planned for her.


	2. A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

            Sherlock paced rapidly across his living room. John watched him from his seat wondering if he should even bother to ask him what was wrong. The answer was clear and John knew the mistake of asking dumb questions especially with a person like Sherlock. John looked at his phone noticing Mary’s constant texts of her new cravings and he knew he had to get home.

            “This is the 4th time Mary has texted you. I’m sure she’ll like those chocolate bunnies soon.”

            “How did you know what she was craving?” John asks him baffled to how his friend could have deduced that so well.

            “Because after you didn’t bother to answer her texts she texted me.” Sherlock replies throwing John his phone. “Even I’m not that good. You can’t deduce a pregnant woman. They are very unpredictable.”

            “Right…” John mutters as if he should have known that. He places Sherlock's phone on the mantel above the fireplace before going to retrieve his coat. “Well I should be off now. I’m assuming finding this mystery woman is your new case. I don’t know how you’re going to manage that. She managed to disappear into thin air.”

            “No one completely disappears, John. You just have to keep looking.” Sherlock replies. John shakes his head intrigued to know if Sherlock found something. He struggled between going to get those out of season chocolate bunnies (since it was November and Easter was long past them) that his wife was craving or asking Sherlock what he found out about the mysterious woman and wondering if he’ll even tell him.

            Sherlock saw his struggle and sighed. He plots himself down on his couch and picks up his violin. He picks the strings and begins to tell John of his findings.

            “After losing this woman, I decided to research what she had given me. The first picture was easy to find. The woman is smart; I have to admit. She took the picture making sure to capture the beach down below and the name of it. After a little more research and a 3-D global map I managed to find an apartment that had a clear view of the spray painted billboard and beach. The owner of said apartment was a Melinda Davidson.”

            “That’s good then. We have a name.” John says settling back down to his seat but Sherlock picked the strings of his violin angrily and John knew that something wrong.

            “No, we don’t. I called Mycroft to use his connections to find a Melinda Davidson but all I found was a schoolteacher in Seattle who has two cats and an online dating profile that’s information is falsified to make her sound more appealing. “

            “Ok, then what about the second picture?” John asks him.

            “Well that one was easy to find. It was right here in London. I sent Lestrade to find it for me and he did. There was a hotel room that had a perfect view and when he retrieved the information for me I found a second name, Christina Robins.”

            “Let me guess, that was false too.”

            “Good you’re catching on.” Sherlock mutters. “Christina Robins is another stolen identity from the States and held no viable information either. So I have no idea who this woman is and how she snuck into London. Mycroft is demanding me to find her and find out how she managed to sneak in. But all I want is to figure out what she wants.”

            “She could be one of Moriarty’s.”

            “Yes, she could but why would Moriarty paint ‘ _Get Sherlock!’_ across an apartment in L.A. and a hotel room in London. No... she isn’t his. She's being forced to run and she's running towards us. It’s most likely that she’s running from Moriarty and came to me in hopes of protecting her. Or she could be someone who knows too much. Or she could merely be a deal gone wrong. I don’t know John but I intend to find out who she is.”

           "What if it's all a game?" John asks him. "What if it's a trap?" 

           "Moriarty killed people to get to me, John. This woman has done nothing but send us into a wild goose chase. I need to find her soon."

            “Well good luck with finding your invisible woman.” John tells him. This time Mary’s texts were on the verge of threats and he knew he had to leave. He put on his coat and was ready to leave the apartment when he stops. “What about the third picture? What did you find out about that?”

            Sherlock picked up his bow and started to play the violin loudly. John knew there was no point in waiting. This was Sherlock shutting down and he didn’t have any time to wait for an answer. John sent a quick reply to his wife that he was on his way and left 221B Baker Street.

            Once Sherlock heard the front door close he put his violin away. His mind strayed back to the third picture. He recognized the man and remembered how he easily put him away for eternity. It was an easy hack to the Russian prison records and he found that the convicted man was dead. He managed to get his hand on rope and hanged himself yet that didn’t sound right. A man like him wouldn’t have settled for death so easily. Sherlock knew that something was wrong with this man’s death but his focus was entirely on how he was related to the woman. He couldn’t help himself but be intrigued.

 

 


	3. Introductions

            She didn’t sleep. Instead she sat on the couch, gun at hand, and the lights off. The city was as silent as it could be but she didn’t mind the constant beeping of a taxi horn or the breaking of beer bottles from the bar below her room. All she could think about is that James was watching her at this exact moment. Sleep would have to wait until she managed some sort of protection.

            The ticking of the clock was her only companion and the sun soon rose through the open curtains. This time she didn’t wake up with a ‘ _Get Sherlock!_ ’ sign and to her that was a relief. She was safe for now.

            With the day beginning she knew it was time to move on the next step in her plan. Sherlock was surely looking for her and she knew that she had him hooked seeing how his inspector friend was running around the whole day yesterday looking for the spray painted sign. It was funny watching him drive around the city and his partner seemed annoyed. She didn’t care because in the end they found it and her alias name.

            Oh how she wished she could have seen his face when he thought he had figured her out. It must have been funny to see his hope rise up and then fall when he got all of those names. Either way it didn’t matter. In those three pictures she gave him three names and only one of them was hers.

            She walked down the road and passed the notorious apartment of 221B. She didn’t dare look up at the window upstairs in the apartment where the detective resided in instead she crossed the street and walked up to the apartment across from Sherlock’s. She remembered this place. She had lived peacefully there until James told her to evacuate and to leave the package for Sherlock in the designated metal strong box. She did as she was told and wrote Sherlock’s name on the envelope and locked the package up. No trace of her except her feminine handwriting.

            The apartment had been reconstructed and fixed. She knew a family lived there now so she fought the urge of knocking the door and letting herself in. She gave the apartment a last glance and continued to walk down the street. Thursday was a slow morning and there weren’t many people on the streets today.

            “Spare change?” she heard a voice beckon to her.

            “What for?” she asked the young teenage girl in front of her. She looked at her closely and took notice of the girl’s dirty state and the ratty sweater she had on.

            “For food and a cup of tea.”

            She took out her wallet and keys. She then took of her designer jacket and handed it to her with fifty pounds on the right pocket.

            “How about you tell that detective friend of yours that I’m forward to meeting him again?”

            “Will do ma’am.” The girl said thankfully.

            She left the girl behind and continued to walk. The air was cold but she didn’t mind. Her destination was coming up soon and she had to get out of the streets. She reached the small shop and quickly picked a new coat. She quickly paid it and left the store.

            A taxi was her mode of transportation. Walking would get her a lot of unwanted attention from Sherlock’s homeless network and she would be out in the open for any sniper to pick her off. So taxi was her only choice even though she could also be killed in one if the driver decided to take the route.

            She reached her destination fairly quickly and paid the taxi driver. She walked up the stairs and knocked on the apartment. She knew that this was the only time she would catch her friend alone while her husband was at work. She heard her friend call out that the door was open so she let herself in. She walked up the stairs and opened the door in which she heard the television from and walked in.

            “For the hundredth time today John, I’ll be fine…” Mary starts to say before catching sight of her face. “You.”

            “I come bearing treats?” she asked nervously as she raised the bags of chocolate. Mary stared at her and then back to the bag of chocolates.

            “I should honestly murder you right now.” Mary growls out. “I have been worried sick about what happened to you and now he’s back and you’re still here alive. Would it have been so hard to just pick up the phone and just call me? Tell me you’re alive and not dead like the rest of his crew?”

            “Don’t be a hypocrite, Mary. You could have called too but no you had to get married with bloody Dr. John Watson and play house.”

            “I’m not some typical housewife!”

            “Well it sure looks like it.” She exclaims back. Mary just sighed and motioned for her to bring her the bags of chocolate. She did just that and sat beside her on the bed. Mary opened the bag quickly and started to unwrap the peanut butter cups. “You know it would have been nice to know you were in London and getting married and having a freaking baby.”

            “I know. I know…I should have called.” Mary replies opening the other bag of chocolates and unwrapping the Hershey kisses. “So what have you been up to these past two years?”

            “I traveled a bit and then I settled in L.A. where I spent my days drinking anything fruity and playing volleyball with Californian boys. It was nice for a while but it got boring. I miss London that’s for sure but now it’s all wrong.”

            “If you need a place to stay I can offer you our guest room.”

            “No, no…I don’t want to impose.” She answers. “Besides, I’ve sent your husband and Sherlock on a goose chase to locate me and find my identity.”

            Mary laughs at that.

            “You’ve sent them to do the impossible. Even I don’t know your name. Let me see, you’ve been a Samantha George, Lindsey Claire, Matilda Monroe, oh my favorite Silver Star.”

            She laughs at that and takes a peanut butter cup and eats it.

            “Ok but in my defense the last one was because we were on a mission and I had to portray a prostitute to get us in,” she answers.

            “So what is your real name _Silver Star_?” Mary asks.

            “I don’t know.” She says shrugging. “I feel like a Nova Stone today. Let’s see how long that lasts seeing that I’m going to have a chat with Mr. Holmes later on today.”

            “Do you think he’ll find you by then?” Mary asks her.

            “Well I’m not really hiding now am I?” she asks her back. “If he doesn’t find me soon then I’ll look for him myself.”

            “But that defeats the purpose of the game.”

            “I gave him a chance to find me. I gave him more than enough hints and yes I only gave him a day but this man can read anyone by only meeting them once. After today, I don’t have time for games. James is after me and he’s started his own game. He’s the cat and I’m the mouse. I can’t afford to die now especially when I haven’t done anything wrong.”

            “Why did you choose Sherlock then?” Mary asks her. “He’s not going to come to your aid. In fact he might kill you himself.”

            “Hence the chase.” She answers. “Sherlock won’t be able to resist the game and he’s intrigued with me already and he doesn’t even know me. My plan is working Mary.”

            Mary didn’t look so certain but she didn’t say anything.

            “I’m assuming you don’t want them to know about us.” She tells her. “You left that life behind and your starting your life with John. I doubt you want my baggage to reveal your baggage.”

            “John and I have thought it best to leave the past in the past but that doesn’t mean that we have to hide our friendship.” Mary answers. “We’re on the good side now. I think we’ll be fine.”

            She smiled at her old friend and couldn’t help but feel her life lighten up. They talked for a while more before they noticed that the day had gone by. Mary showed her how John had already posted a blog post about her. _The Invisible Woman_ , a thief that is not a thief, she’s there and then she’s not, a pure mystery that has Sherlock baffled.

            She was pleased that she had made a big impression on the boys but it had practically broadcasted her return. Mary knew that too and it was time for her to go on the move again. She told Mary that she would see her again but for now she had to settle this game between Sherlock and herself. She put on her simple coat and hailed a taxi.

            “Where to miss?”

            “221B Baker St.”

 __________________________

            Sherlock had met up with one of his homeless network earlier that day as he scouted the streets that the ‘invisible woman’ (a name John made up himself) had disappeared into. He found no possible way of how she could have vanished in thin air. There were no exits, no stairs, no alleys, and no secret tunnel she could have slipped into.

            He was ready to give up when he saw the familiar dark blue coat and started to run after her. Sherlock grabbed the hood and pulled the girl back only to find a girl eating and looking scared at him.

            “Where did you get this coat?” he asks her. He knew that the designer jacket was from her and that this homeless girl couldn’t have acquired it without interacting with the mysterious woman. The girl swallows the loaf of bread in her mouth before she answered.

            “That missus gave it to me with fifty pounds in the right pocket. She told me to tell you that she can’t wait to see you again.”

            Sherlock still held on to her and scouted the street again.

            “Can you let me go now?” she asks him. Sherlock reluctantly loosens his grip and the girl runs away.

            The message was pointless. It was as if she was taunting him. John walks up to Sherlock after asking the shopkeepers on the street for the mysterious woman. All said the same thing, that they didn’t see her. One coffee shop owner said that Tuesday mornings were always their busiest time so if he did see her then he didn’t notice. John was ready to tell Sherlock the news but there was no use, Sherlock turned on his heels and started to make his way back to Baker Street knowing the answer.

            “Why don’t you give it a rest, Sherlock?” John asks him as Sherlock unlocked the front door. “They’re plenty of cases that demand your attention.”

            “Nothing is as entertaining as this one.” Sherlock answers as he takes off his coat and scarf.

            Mrs. Hudson hearing the boys walks out of her apartment and greets them.

            “Oh Sherlock you have a client waiting for you upstairs.”

            “See Sherlock, a client.” John says motioning for his friend to go up. Sherlock rolled his eyes and made his way to his apartment.

            “I don’t want a new case, John. I want to solve this one.” Sherlock complained. “This invisible woman has given me more than most of our clients do and I still can’t figure out who she is and what she wants with us.”

            He opened the door to reveal the source of all his problems.

            “If that’s the case then I think I can help.” The invisible woman answers giving both men a smile. She stands up from Sherlock’s seat and walks over to them. “I have many names…”

            “Such as Melinda Davidson and Christina Robins.” Sherlock states motioning to the pictures she gave him. The woman just nods and her grin grows wider.

            “Did you ever figure out the last one?” she asks him referring to the pictures. Sherlock shakes his head.

            “Russian weapons trader. I put him away in prison for aiding Moriarty. I never cared much for finding out his name I just knew he was high up in Moriarty’s network.” Sherlock informs her. “Don’t tell me. He was your husband? A brother? Someone you cared about?”

            “No, not at all.” She answers. “I never knew him at all.”

            “Then why give me that picture?”

            The woman smile just grew bigger and Sherlock noticed that she was excited for the next part.

            “I guess I should introduce myself then,” she says walking over to the tall consulting detective. “My name is Sebastian Moran, a.k.a James Moriarty’s right hand man, and by man…”

            “You mean woman.” Sherlock finishes.


	4. Stripes of a Tiger

         A moment of silence passed between the three of them. Sherlock was staring at the woman, now known as Sebastian, with suspicion. Sebastian on the other hand was staring back with a smile. One that Sherlock couldn’t figure out if it was a mocking one or a plainly crazy one. John was having his own internal battle trying to figure out what had just occurred.

         “I’m completely and utterly confused,” John states breaking the silence first. He turned to Sherlock mouth open but then closes it and turns to the woman. “You’re a…you’re a woman with a name of a boy.”

         “Yes,” Sebastian states.

         “So you’re not…I mean you weren’t born male?” John asks. “Not that it’s wrong or anything. It’s completely normal but…”

         “I was born a woman, Doctor John Watson.” Sebastian answers. “You can give me a check-up if you’ll like but I doubt your wife would like that.”

         “My wife…?” John asks still trying to make sense of the whole situation. Sebastian nods and smiles at him.

         “Yes, you know, Mary.” She tells him looking at him curiously. “Do you need to sit down Doctor?”

         John nods and takes a seat. Sebastian went to go grab him a glass of water and gave it to John. Sherlock’s suspicious stare turned into a heated glare.

         “You speak to us as if we’re familiars.” Sherlock states. “You know specifics of our lives. You called John by his work title and know the name of his wife. You also know where we keep our glasses as if you’ve been in here before. You know our routines, such, that you were able to bump into us and slip out because you knew of our rush mornings on Tuesdays. You’ve been watching us now. The same way you have watched us before. If you are who you say you are, I should take the gun that John leaves inside his desk drawer and shoot you right here, right now.”

         Sebastian’s smile dropped and John froze at the change of her expression. In one quick motion, Sebastian pulled the desk drawer out and spilled its contents. Papers flew down to the floor and John’s gun fell with a thud. It was dissembled in a thousand pieces.

         “I took my precautions when I came here.” Sebastian told him. “So much so…” she says as she pulls out tiny small devices out of her pocket and drops them on the desk top. “That I went ahead and pulled out the cameras that have been implanted here since who knows when.”

         “We were being watched this whole time?” John asks in shock. Sherlock remained quiet.

         “You’re not surprised.” Sebastian deduces at Sherlock’s calm state. Sherlock just sighs and shrugs.

         “I anticipated it.” Sherlock replies.

         “Well some of these were active and some were not.” Sebastian informs then. “The deactivated ones are Moriarty’s. The ones that were activated I believe are Mycroft’s.”

         “And how do you know which one’s which?” John asks her.

         “Well, I was the one who planted them. So I know which ones are mine and which ones aren’t.” Sebastian says her lips slightly tugging upwards. Sherlock took note of the pride that she held for her work. Her work that belonged to Moriarty.

         “What else have you been up to?” John asks him. “What else do you know?”

         “I know everything that involves Sherlock Holmes.” Sebastian answers. “I was assigned to you two ever since you started working together.”

         “So every case and walk and date I’ve been in, you seen it?” John asks.

         “My eyes weren’t always on you Doctor.” I tell him. “They were always supposed to be on Sherlock.”

         “This doesn’t make sense,” John remarks. “If you always had eyes on Sherlock then you had a thousand opportunities to kill him. Why did Moriarty go through great efforts to get to Sherlock?”

         “I’ve explained it to you before, John.” Sherlock answers. “Moriarty grows bored just like I do. He likes to play games.”

         “And he’s playing one right now, as we speak.” Sebastian states. “One involving me and I don’t know how long it is going to last.”

         “What does Moriarty want with you?” Sherlock asks her.

         “That’s the thing,” Sebastian sighs out. “I don’t know.”

         “I heard whispers, everywhere I went to dissemble Moriarty’s network, in those two years of undercover work, I heard your name.” Sherlock rants. “Your name; Sebastian Moran. A man with no face, no identity, no one knew what he looked like but the information was all the same, he was Moriarty’s right hand man. I found him in the borders of Russia trading illegal weaponry. I helped him get caught and next thing we know he’s dead in his cell. Moriarty isn’t a forgiving man and his intent is very clear. Those threats, that obviously displayed murder…it’s all directed to you. The question that remains is what did you do to upset him?”

         “Nothing,” Sebastian answers. “Absolutely nothing.”

         “There must have been something.” Sherlock continues stepping towards her menacingly. “Did you steal money? Did you make a deal that went wrong? Did you betray him in any way?”

         Sebastian tries to answer his questions but Sherlock never allowed her to answer.

         “Did you take viable information? Did you kill someone he needed? Did you insult him?”

         “I..uh…” Sebastian mutters. “I don’t know.”

         “You don’t know or you don’t want to tell us?”

         “I don’t know!” Sebastian exclaims in frustration. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I did what he told me. We planned every scenario when you two were on the roof. If he died then I would take whatever he had on a designated offshore bank account and hide. He wanted me to be safe so I ran. I hid in the states for the past two years. I made up an identity and made myself normal or as normal as I could be. I did exactly what he told me to do. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

         “Why would he want to save you?” Sherlock asks her. “Moriarty isn’t the kind of man to save people.”

         Sebastian’s whole demeanor changed at the one question. Her eyes turning distant and her posture becoming frigid. She turns to Sherlock; fear was evident in her eyes.

         “That, I don’t want to tell you.” Sebastian answers.

         “Then what exactly are you doing here?” Sherlock asks finally. He knew that whatever she was hiding was big but he couldn’t do anything if she didn’t tell him. Not like he cared for anyways. Sherlock was nowhere close into trusting her.

         “I need your help, Sherlock Holmes.” Sebastian tells him. “I need you to save me.”

         “Save a criminal?” Sherlock asks. “That is behind me.”

         “I’m a criminal with information.” She states. “I could have gone to Mycroft and begged for protection like Irene did but we all know how that ended.”

         “You know about what happened with _The Woman_?” John asks.

         “Who do you think helped her escape all this time?” Sebastian asks back. “Who do you think referred her to you two?”

         “What you’re telling me is that you helped orchestrate the whole Irene Adler fiasco?” John exclaims upset. “The one that almost compromised the British Government?”

         “Irene was one of the many clients Moriarty and I have assisted.” Sebastian tells them.

         “Assisted?” Sherlock asks interested. “What exactly was your job with Moriarty?”

         “I arranged the meetings, found new clients, orchestrated the plans that Moriarty devised.” Sebastian explains. “No one knew who I was. Everywhere I went, all they saw was James’ secretary. They never expected that I was his personal bodyguard. That was the whole reason the face of Sebastian was so unknown. They were to blind to see me right in front of them.”

         “Why the name Sebastian?” Sherlock asks curiously. “I doubt that’s your legal name.”

         “Moriarty picked it for me.” Sebastian answers. “Moriarty knew he had to keep me safe. To prevent people from trying to get to him by his second in command. So he created Sebastian, a persona with a dark past but no face. He thought it was a clever way to keep his right hand man a secret. I was a woman, thought to be a secretary, and no one expected me to be a trained sniper and combat agent. Everyone knew the rumors, the legacy, the… ”

“Stories.” Sherlock finished.

“Yes, stories.” Sebastian says with a nod of her head. “Moriarty was always one for a great story and mine was one of his favorites.”

         Sebastian became silent and starts to remember a distant memory. Sherlock and John notice it. It was obvious that she wasn’t used to remembering her past, one that they still didn’t know.

         “What is your real name?” Sherlock asks her. Sebastian returns her focus to Sherlock and gives him a small smile. A smile that Sherlock was able to read, a genuine sad smile.

         “I don’t know…” she whispers. “He would never tell me.”


	5. Roomates?

         Sherlock did not trust any word that passed her lips. All he saw was a different piece involved in Moriarty’s game. He couldn’t believe that she was trying to pass as an innocent in need of his help. Especially with the false premises of not knowing her own name. The name given to her by birth.

         “I hope you have a nice trip back to America, Ms. Moran.” Sherlock says turning to leave. John quickly stands up as he hears this.

         “Sherlock!”

         “You can’t honestly believe her.” Sherlock replies facing his friend. “How can she claim she doesn’t know her own name? Even if that is true, I can’t tolerate the idea of her having a past with a James Moriarty. People like her aren’t to be trusted.”

         “I’m not asking for trust.” Sebastian replies. “I’m asking for safety.”

         “The answer is still no.” Sherlock responds. John just sighed.

         “This woman is in need. Moriarty will kill her if we send her on her own.”

         “Then you can take her!”

         “Mary’s about to have a baby! The spare room has been turned into a nursery!”

         “Then she can sleep on the streets for all I care!”

         “Sherlock Holmes! I swear if you don’t behave…!” John begins to shout but is interrupted by a deafening gunshot. Sherlock and John snap towards Sebastian who’s gun is pointed at the smiley face painted on the wall. Gaining their attention, Sebastian pockets the gun and takes a seat on the chair that she knew belonged to Sherlock.

         “What was that for?” John asks annoyed.

         Sebastian just held a finger up to her lips and then pointed to her ear. Seconds later, the door slammed below them and they heard the fast heavy steps of someone coming upstairs. Mrs. Hudson storms in and looks at the wall.

         “Sherlock! How many times do I have to tell you to stop putting holes in my wall! That is going on the rent, young man.” Mrs. Hudson chastises at an astonished Sherlock. The consulting detective attempts to argue for his innocence but Sebastian doesn’t give him that chance.

         “Mrs. Hudson, you did tell me that you have apartment open, right?”

         Mrs. Hudson’s whole demeanor changed as she turned to the young lady in front of her. Her usual polite attitude returned as she responded to the woman in front of her.

         “Oh yes, deary.” Mrs. Hudson replies. “Only problem is the damp but that’s usual for basement apartments.”

         “You can’t be serious…” Sherlock comments in which Mrs. Hudson glares at him.

         “Hush up,” she snaps at him before turning back to Sebastian. “The apartment has a bedroom, a small living room with a fireplace, a small kitchen and a full bathroom. We’ll need to get some tiling down but…”

         “Sounds perfect to me.” Sebastian says.

         “Well love, you haven’t even seen it yet, are you sure?” Mrs. Hudson asks her.

         “Oh I’ve seen it before.” She replies a faint grin on her lips. “It needs some work but I can deal with it.”

         “When did you see it?” Mrs. Hudson asks confused. It’s been a while since she’s shown that apartment around. Sherlock looked down at Sebastian having a suspicion that soon turned out to be correct.

         “Well I…” Sebastian starts of as her grin grows. She looks up at Sherlock with a glint of mischievousness. “I had to drop something off once. A pair of tennis shoes as I recall.”

         John and Sherlock recalled what she was talking about while Mrs. Hudson’s memory faltered. Sebastian just grinned at the seething detective before turning to Mrs. Hudson.

         “When can I move in Mrs. Hudson?”

         “Oh right away if you’ll like.” Mrs. Hudson exclaims gladly. “I’ll go get the paperwork ready. Oh my! How great it’s going to be to have another lady in the house.”

         Mrs. Hudson rambles to herself in glee as she departs from the room. Once she was out of earshot, Sherlock snaps towards Sebastian.

         “How dare you come into my own home…?”

         “Look,” Sebastian says cutting him off. “I knew you wouldn’t trust me. It’s common sense not to but I’ve only known of one person who’s bested Moriarty and that’s you. You’re the only one who can either end him for real.”

         “He’s targeting you. Why would I want to get on the line of fire?” Sherlock asks her.

         “What made you think he’s only holding one gun?” Sebastian asks him. “Moriarty is gunning for many people at a time. You’re one of them, Mr. Holmes. I think it’s best if we work together.”

         “I don’t work with criminals.”

         “You did once,” Sebastian points out. “But I guess that isn’t a promising example. You fell for Ms. Adler and almost caused the British government to fall.”

         “Believe me, I won’t be making the same mistake.” Sherlock replies.

         “Then prove it.” Sebastian counteracts. “Work with me and prove us all wrong that you won’t make another grand mistake that will cost you.”

         “Why would I ever fall for a conniving snake like you?” Sherlock asks standing in front of his chair to glare down at the woman.

         “I don’t know.” Sebastian replies standing up on her own. “Maybe my sob story will hook you.”

         Sherlock glared at the woman in front of him with an immense hate. Sebastian just stared back at him with indifference. John was just watching this with clear confusion. It was slightly nerve-wracking to watch two strong-headed people tried to outdo each other.

         “I dare you.” Sebastian taunts dangerously close to him. “I dare you to work with me.”

         Sherlock was amused even though he didn’t want to admit it. The Sebastian Moran that was standing in front of him is what he expected to be the person to stand aside Moriarty. Even though Sebastian was proving herself to be who she claimed to be, it didn’t make his morals bend to aid her.

         “Hamish!” John exclaims out of the blue. “Just if you were thinking of baby names.”

         Sebastian snorted at that and laughed. Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance and took his seat that was unoccupied now. He grabbed his laptop from the nearby desk and started to type furiously.

         “It’ll be a pleasure to work with you, Ms. Moran.” Sherlock states not bothering to give her a glance. “We have much to discuss.”

         Sebastian looked at John confused. She didn’t think it’ll be this easy to get him to comply to help her. John was surprised as well but didn’t question it.

         “That’s our cue to leave.” John tells her. “He won’t be off that thing until he realizes the sun’s gone down.”

         Before Sebastian allowed John to escort her out, she stopped and turned around to the detective.

         “How did you know I would go back to America if this didn’t work out?” she asks him interested. Sherlock looks up at her blankly.

         “The English accent sounds native but in moments of heated argument, your American accent became obvious. It’s common sense to return to your native home to seek refuge especially if that was the place that you settled in after Moriarty’s fall.”

         “He always said I was American…” Sebastian whispers to herself. John and Sherlock look at her confused but she shook her herself out of her trance and gave the detective and the doctor a small smile. “I’ll take my leave. See you tomorrow.”

         Without another word, Sebastian Moran left the apartment behind her. John turns to Sherlock confused with everything that transpired in the matter of a 10-minute conversation.

         “What was that about?” John asks him.

         Sherlock was quietly pensive for a while before responding.

         “She’s hiding something.” Sherlock replies. “Something big, it seems.”

 


	6. The Devil and I Played Games

         Mrs. Hudson, John, and even Sherlock, though he didn’t want to admit it, were fascinated at to how the dump of an apartment known as 221C could have transformed this quickly overnight. Instead of tiles, there were polished wooden boards. The living room and fireplace were completely redone and the bedroom was furnished with a new collection of everything it seemed.

         Sebastian smiled at their obvious shocked expression. She was proud of her short work, and by short work she meant the endless amount of effort the men she paid for to do this whole makeover. Sebastian still had money from Moriarty but she hadn’t used it ever since the threat started up. She was running on her savings, which was money she earned from Moriarty. Either way, the money she was using was dirty money and she didn’t particularly care about it.

         “You sure made yourself at home,” Mrs. Hudson says placing a hand on the new couch. “Oh dear, this is… this is very soft.”

         “If you like this one, I could get you one.” Sebastian offers up.

         “Mrs. Hudson it is very clear she’s trying to bribe you.” Sherlock states annoyed with a roll of his eyes to prove it.

         “She can do whatever she pleases if it means I get a new couch.” Mrs. Hudson replies before turning back to Sebastian. Mrs. Hudson completely missed the way Sebastian stuck her tongue out at an angry Sherlock. “So dear, what’s it made of? And in what colors does it come in?”

         “Oh I can show you the catalog and you can choose whichever one you’ll like, my treat.”

         Mrs. Hudson couldn’t help her excited squeal as Sebastian handed her the catalog. This caused Sherlock to roll his eyes and take a tour of the room.

         John had disappeared somewhere in Sebastian’s apartment lost in his own amazement. Sherlock disguised his curiosity with deeper curiosity as he tried to deduct her but it was no use. Everything in her apartment came out of an _average_ catalog. Anyone who didn’t know better could walk into the room and assume she was well off and that was it. The detective sighed and sat down on the couch. The couch was indeed very soft and he hated to admit that he wanted one too.

         “Ooh, the black one does seem nice.” Mrs. Hudson exclaims in the background. John returned soon after that still trying to wrap his mind around how she did this in such a short amount of time.

         “How…how the hell did you this all in two days?” John asks her. Sebastian just shrugged as she sat on the lilac.

         “I knew some men who owed me some favors but it mainly took a lot of money.”

         “Moriarty’s money I presume?” Sherlock asks.

         “Mainly,” she responds. “But I also had my own savings.”

         “Savings that I deduce were also acts of crime.” Sherlock states.

         “How else is a woman supposed to make money in this world?”

         “Perhaps getting a degree, go through some training of sort, maybe getting a job and working your way up?”

         “And what makes you believe I didn’t do any of those?” Sebastian asks back to Sherlock.

         “Because you gave the illusion that all you’ve done in your life is work for Moriarty.”

         “I worked with many people, Mr. Holmes. Yes it was Jim who dictated most of my clients but I had few personal ones of my own.”

         “And what exactly did you do for these clients?” Sherlock interrogates her.

         “Well Mr. Holmes, my clients and I have some sort of confidentiality. I can’t be going behind their backs and blabbing about their personal business.”

         “Sebastian, you can’t just…” Sherlock begins to argue but Mrs. Hudson bursts into their conversation holding the magazine out to Sebastian.

         “If you could be a dear and get me the black one, I’ll be as happy as a clam.”

         “Ok then,” Sebastian said marking the page. “It should arrive at your apartment later on this week.”

         Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands and excuses herself, babbling about having to make tea and biscuits in celebration of her new apartment. Sebastian with a smile turns to Sherlock and John.

         “I’m sorry, what were we talking about again?” she asks them faking innocence. John fell for it as always while Sherlock knew better.

         “Ms. Moran, it’s Moran isn’t it?” Sherlock asks her in which she nods. “We are not going to play any more of your games. No more of your innocent acts or bribing our landlady or trying to put me down by downgrading me with your _Mr. Holmes_ act _._ You’re going to tell us everything you’ve done with and without Moriarty.”

         “Are you sure?” Sebastian asks him. “Because there are some things you won’t like about it. For example, some of my past involves the pregnant Mrs. Watson.”

         John quickly froze as he heard his wife mentioned.

         “What about Mary do you know?”

         “Tsk. Tsk. Dr. Watson.” Sebastian tells him. “Mary told you to leave her past in the past.”

         “How do you know this?!” John asks feeling threatened.

         “Isn’t it obvious, John?” Sherlock asks him. “They’re clearly friends. Sisters of Combat. Known each other for what 5 years?”

         “6 years since last Friday.” Sebastian corrects him, which caused Sherlock to wince when he got that detail wrong. John was still a stuttering and distressed mess hearing these details.

         “Mary and you…? Mary and you. Mary and you!” John escalates.

         “Dr. John, may I ask you to not destroy anything in my apartment?” Sebastian asks him as she saw him clutch at her new sofa tightly. John took a deep breath and sat back onto the couch.

         “What else did you do Ms. Moran?” Sherlock asks once John calmed down a bit.

         “I covered up some politicians bad doings. Killed people there, saved people there… helped high class thieves, _became_ a high class thief, spied, went undercover, got blackmail material…” Sebastian started to list off. “Sneaked into the White House once. Helped Irene. Killed Irene and by kill I mean covered up her fake death. Stole identities, made fake identities… and the list goes on and on.”

         “I think the better question would be to ask what you haven’t done.” John comments, which Sherlock just hummed in agreement.

         “Oh Dr. Watson you do flatter me.” Sebastian states with a taunting smile. “I’ve done many criminal acts. Some were fun, some were not… I had a thing for hunting rapists. Never helped any of those. Moriarty also knew better than to mess with that kind of evil. Told me that I could spend my day’s off picking those people off the streets.”

         The way she sat, hands clutching the lilac’s arm, her smile brimmed with perfectly straight teeth, legs crossed… it make her look animalistic. Sherlock would describe her as a tigress waiting to pounce.

         “You do know that you have simply confessed to countless acts of criminal activity?” John asks her. “Enough to put you in jail for a thousand lifetimes.”

         “Is that your plan, Dr. John Watson?” Sebastian asks him. “Throwing me into a cage?”

         John remained silent and Sherlock was interested in what she had to say next.

         “I have to say, I’m once again flattered by those kind words.” Sebastian replies. “But you must know, Moriarty won’t let his newfound toy remain locked up. He’ll have me out before I even get put in.”

         “She’s right, John.” Sherlock states. “If and only if Moriarty is back, she’ll be out in no time.”

         “Why do you still think there’s a chance he’s not alive?” Sebastian asks him. “I’ve brought you enough proof to show you he is.”

         “Ms. Moran, I’ve already told John and another handful of people as to why Moriarty is in fact dead. Your presence and the threats you are under are just a lead to the person who’s behind this whole charade.”

         “I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself Sherlock but Moriarty is the only person alive who knew of who I really was and what I was meant to him. I don’t know how he did it, but if a man like you could trick death, then so can he!”

         “Who were you to Moriarty?” Sherlock asks her. “Because there are many missing pieces to your so-called proof. One of them, which is the most important piece of it all, is your relationship with him. Every time I ask you about it, you manage to deflect or run away from. So tell me, Ms. Moran. What was your affiliation to Moriarty? How did you two meet? How did you manage to be what he wanted you to be? How did you manage to stay by his side if he constantly gets bored?”

         “Out!” Sebastian shouts at the consulting detective as she stood up from her seat. “I want you out of my house!”

 _Oh how the tables have turned,_ he thought to himself. The detective allowed himself to smile at her.

         “Did I strike a nerve?” Sherlock asks taunting her now. That only served to infuriate her even more, causing Sebastian to launch herself across the room grabbing the lapels of Sherlock’s raincoat.

         “You want the answer you’ve been asking ever since I got here, fine.” Sebastian exclaims. “ _The devil is real_. He doesn’t wear a red cape or have horns or have a pointy tale. He dresses in Westwood and has an Irish accent _to die for_. He can be beautiful and deceiving for he’s a fallen angel and he used to be God’s favorite.”

         Sherlock didn’t know how to respond to Sebastian’s exclamation and by that time Sebastian let his coat go, lost in her own thoughts once again. John grabbed their things and silently excused them. Somehow, Sherlock managed to make his way out of the door without confronting Sebastian.

         All Sherlock could think about when he made his way to his apartment was the words that Sebastian had told him and how broken she seemed to be by them. Moriarty was no angel, but the devil, yes. Moriarty was indeed the devil.


	7. The Simplest of Seconds

         It was a few days later until Sebastian had the guts to confront John and Sherlock. She knew she had lost her cool in the worst of ways with the detective and his friend. It was just that there were things she didn’t like to remember or be asked about it. She knew Sherlock wouldn’t stop his questions of her past so she only hoped for a better reaction to when that would happen again.

         Sebastian hesitantly made her way to the apartment upstairs. She could clearly hear the playing of the violin as she ascended upstairs. Even though the stairs creaked, signaling her ascension to his apartment, Sherlock didn’t stop playing. Sebastian timidly knocked on the already open door and looked at Sherlock, who had his back towards her. The playing immediately stopped.

         “I would offer you a cup of tea but I fear you would throw it back to me.”

         Sebastian cringed at his greeting but still held her ground.

         “Where’s John?” she asked him, noticing the doctor nowhere around.

         “He’s at a doctor’s appointment with his wife.”

         “I presume it’s for the baby.”

         “Oh right, the baby.” Sherlock mumbles crashing down on his chair, setting down his violin carefully into his case.

         “Well…” Sebastian says unsure of what to do in the situation. “I guess my visit here shall have to wait.”

         “It doesn’t have to.” Sherlock states. “Whatever reason you came up here for is the same reason that you’ve finally shown your face in 3 days. What is it that you wanted to tell us?”

         “An apology.” Sebastian answers hesitantly. Sherlock was surprised at that but quickly masks the emotion away as Sebastian continued talking. “I’m sorry for the way I acted the other day. I was rude and angry. Questions about my past… I just don’t take them very well. Especially when they concern Moriarty.”

         “Keeping secrets about him is the same thing as protecting.” Sherlock tells her. “So what’s it going to be?”

         “The secrets I’m keeping won’t do a thing for Moriarty.” Sebastian responds. “It’ll only hurt me and I need all the protection I can get right now.”

         Sherlock stared at her deeply. He tried to read her again but it seemed that every time he saw her, his whole opinion of her changed. The first time they met she wore designer clothes and had the aura of a high class woman. Now, she wore some band t-shirt and sweatpants. Her hair was kept in a tangled bun on the top of her head. She looked like a college student neck deep in student loans. Whether she was telling the truth or not, he didn’t know.

         “There’s one essential question Ms. Moran about your connections with Moriarty.” Sherlock states. “You keep telling us that you don’t know the answer but I think you do.”

         Sebastian looked at him unhappily already knowing the question he was going to ask.

         “Why does Moriarty want you dead?”

         Sebastian sat down on the couch across from Sherlock. Her eyes pensive and deep in thought. She really didn’t know the answer to his question but there was a theory she had. One that was most likely true.

         “James always told me I was smarter than most people. That I wasn’t average… wasn’t _boring._ Maybe he’s punishing me for not exceeding his expectations. Maybe he’s back for me because he realized that I didn’t put two and two together to find out he really never was dead. Maybe he’s upset that I decided to live a normal life after him instead of keeping his network going. Maybe deep inside, I broke his heart.”

         Sherlock snorted at her last statement but the way Sebastian was looking at the dusty old carpet under his feet did he realize that her mind had gone elsewhere again. The only sign that he could truly take as her being honest.

         “You really do believe he’s alive.”

         “Moriarty was the only person I had.” Sebastian whispers to Sherlock. “I think I was the only person he had too.”

         Once again, Sebastian loses herself into her own mind. Remembering things that were so long forgotten or should be forgotten. Sherlock watched as she snapped herself out of her own thoughts and turn to look up at him.

         “Well, I think that’s enough of that.” She states rising up from the seat and placing her usual smirk on her face. “I gave you some answers and apologized. I’ll be on my way now.”

         Sherlock just watched her go not in the mood to follow her for more questions. He had a feeling that even if he did, she’ll blow up on him again and frankly the first time had scared him _and_ thrilled him. So Sherlock let Sebastian waltz out of his apartment and decided to wait for her to become more comfortable before asking her the thousands of questions he had for her in his mind.

         Sebastian descended the stairs on her way to her apartment. She greeted a departing Mrs. Hudson before pulling out her keys. It was just one simple second that she needed to realize that someone was in her apartment. She jingled her keys and even went out of her way to drop them to have a few more seconds to formulate a plan.

         She could yell for Sherlock but by that time he made his way down, they would have gotten her. It was best she went in alone and not expecting to be attacked. Sebastian couldn’t see them through the glass window in her door. Nor could she hear them even though wooden floors tend to creak or at least echo a sound.

         Sebastian knew someone was inside. There was no doubt about it. She’s been trained for this and as she’s been trained so were the intruders in her home. After five seconds to think all of this through, Sebastian managed to pick up her keys from the floor and unlock her door. She quickly closed it, silently slipped out the umbrella from it’s stand and made her way into her living room.

         No one was there but she knew better. It all came down to one creak on one of the loose boards that warned her of the presence behind her. Sebastian quickly jabbed the umbrella’s sharp end behind her. The intruder grunted and she turns around and smacks the other end of the umbrella to the intruder’s face. The man falls with more groans of pain and with one roundhouse kick, the man was out.

         Sebastian had no time to stop the other man running towards her. The umbrella was pulled out of her hold. She let him grab her wrists and pull them behind her. The agent then slams her roughly against the wall and she assumed the roughness had to do with her defeating his partner with a simple umbrella. She laughed as she felt the small taste of blood in her mouth. Her laughter causing the agent to falter a bit.

         “What are you laughing about?”

         Sebastian’s laughter turns into a chuckle as she tilts her head slightly to look at the man.

         “Last time a man had me against the wall, he died.”

         The man in that split second that took him to process what Sebastian had just told him, gave her the opportunity to smack the back of her head against his nose. The potential fractured nose caused his hands to immediately fly to his face allowing Sebastian to be freed. She quickly turns around, slams her knee into his groin and pushed him over the couch causing him to slam his head on the coffee table.

         Sebastian smiled as she looked over the incapacitated men writhing on her floor. She calmly started to prepare a kettle of tea, placed biscuits that Mrs. Hudson had brought her this morning on a plate, and made a couple of bags of ice. Once the tea was ready, she moved all of these things into the living room just in time to see both of the men recovering.

         Sebastian placed a bag on the first intruder’s face. As for the second one, she placed one on his nose and threw the second one to his groin causing him to wince again in pain. Both men glared at her and she just gave them a pointed look.

         “You’re welcome by the way.” She tells them. “Now how do you two prefer your tea?”

         Both men started to circle around her and she just sighed at them.

         “We could try this tango again, really.” Sebastian tells them tea pot in hand. “But you two can barely walk straight and I have a pot full of hot boiling tea that will do more damage than a hard kick to the jewels. So you two decide whether to get beat up again or have tea while your boss makes his way here.”

         The intruders looked at each other, both of their answers being clearly etched on their faces. With a limp, they both sat down on the couch holding the ice packs to their faces. Sebastian smiled at them for her choice and started to pour some tea out.

         “So while we wait… why don’t you two tell me more about yourselves, huh?” she asked them. “How long have you two been married?”

______________________ 

         The apartment echoed with laughter. Sebastian’s voice was heard over all of it as she told them one of her undercover stories that started with disaster but still ended well. More tea had to be made and Sebastian had run out of biscuits a while back. They were all having a good time which instantly stopped as her door creaked open.

         Both of the agents jumped to their feet. They dropped their tea cups down onto the table and stood frigidly. Sebastian sighed at the sight of the two agents and simply brushed the crumbs of her sweatpants before glancing up at the mastermind of all of this.

         “Mr. Holmes… I was wondering when you’ll be making an appearance.”

         “It was _you_ who was supposed to come to _me._ ” Mycroft states unhappily glancing at the two silent agents. “But it seems that didn’t work out as I thought it would.”

         “It’s insulting, really.” Sebastian says standing up from her seat. There was no way she could meet Mycroft’s height for an intense stare off but the overall aura she was giving by standing tall gave that little push. “You sent just _two_ agents for me? Yes, they’re very well trained, but just two? I’m starting to believe that you’re a bit sexist Mr. Holmes.”

         “I am fully aware of your capabilities Ms. Moran.” Mycroft replies. “I was just hoping to catch you…off guard.”

         “Hmm,” Sebastian says narrowing her eyes at him. “Well you’ve caught me or… well, I caught you. So what is it that you want Mr. Holmes? Do you want me to spy on your brother? Isn’t that the proposal you give to everyone who gets close to Sherlock?”

         “Of course it is,” Mycroft responds as he pushed away Sebastian’s cracked umbrella out of the way. “For you, I’m afraid, that’s not the case.”

         “Oh really?” Sebastian asked surprised. “Then what are you doing here?”

         “I’m here to offer you a different deal.” Mycroft states. “I’ll offer you the protection that you seek, and in return you leave Sherlock alone.”

         Sebastian looked at Mycroft reading him more closely now. The man was a blank wall and only gave off that he was precise and analytical in every decision he made.

         “Who knew that the great Mycroft Holmes did have a soft spot for his little brother?”

         Mycroft narrowed his eyes at her which caused Sebastian to smile even more.

         “Do you fear that I will corrupt him with my evil mind and beautiful face?” Sebastian asks him. “I can assure you I won’t be another Adler issue.”

         “That’s not the case, Ms. Moran.” Mycroft responds. “It’s the threat that you’re imposing to my brother.”

         It was Sebastian’s turn to narrow her eyes at him. She thought for a while about his proposition.

         “What’s it going to be Ms. Moran?”

         “As appealing as your offer is, I’m going to have to pass.” Sebastian says dropping onto her seat again.

         “Excuse me?”

         “I said, I’m going to have to pass.” Sebastian repeats. “Believe me, I know I’m missing an opportunity of getting a different name and living in some tropical paradise for the rest of my life but you don’t offer me a protection from the man that stole the mere security of privacy. I’ll never be free of him and you know that.”

         “Ms. Moran, Moriarty will be dealt with.”

         “No, he won’t.” Sebastian argues. “Your brother is under the impression that someone else is running the show. Picking up from where Moriarty left off. I think otherwise. I think he’s alive, resurrected himself somehow, and he’s not going to stop coming after me. So Mr. Holmes, I suggest you put your best men into searching for James’ current whereabouts because you and I know that he’s back.”

         Mycroft didn’t say anything and remained emotionless to Sebastian’s rant. He instead turns and walks away, the clicking of his umbrella tip hitting the floor with every step he took. Sebastian smiled warmly at the two agents who in sync start to march out of her apartment. The door closes with a quiet click and Sebastian’s smile wears off.


	8. Falling Angels

         The wind was blowing pretty lightly and the sun wasn’t out causing the storming clouds above her to cast grey lighting on the world. Sebastian pulled the coat closer to her cold body but instead of going back inside, she decided to continue watching the world on the ledge. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and let her arms spread wide open beside her. The wind whipped around more strongly now with her senses dulled down.

         “How did you find me?” Sebastian asks noting the other presence on the roof. Sherlock walked up and stood a step behind her not daring to stand on the ledge of the building.

         “I have a friend who works here.” Sherlock answers. “Said she saw someone from your description make her way upstairs.”

         “Molly rated me out, yes?” Sebastian asks him now.

         “Shouldn’t surprise me that you know her name.”

         “But I did.” Sebastian replies. “I know everyone you know. I know them better than you do.”

         Sherlock was unsettled by this but didn’t let it show. Instead he watched Sebastian closely trying to read her. Once again her story seemed to change as did her appearance. She wore torn up jeans, worn out combat boots, a maroon t-shirt, and a long blue overcoat. _His_ long blue overcoat.

         “Is that mine?” he asked annoyed.

         “Hush, now.” Sebastian snaps at him. “I’m reenacting something.”

         “Are you reenacting my fall?” Sherlock asks her.

         “For a smart consulting detective, you’re asking dumb obvious questions.” Sebastian mutters. She still kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath. “Now please be quiet. I’m trying to think and your loud overanalyzing thinking is throwing me off.”

         Sherlock really wanted to reply with a rude comment of his own but restrained himself in doing so as her blank expression frowned in concentration. Her arms once again reached alongside her making the overcoat flap around her.

         “I watched you fall,” Sebastian says after a while of silence. She opened her eyes and scanned the building across from her. “I was standing in that little office space over there, waiting for the sign, any sign really. I had a rifle aiming right at John as he arrived to the scene but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

         “Sounds like the beginning of a great song.” Sherlock comments.

         “Funny, Holmes.” Sebastian remarks. “But that wasn’t what I was going for, I was doing what I was told, watch you. And well… I also had to shoot innocent John if you didn’t do what James wanted you to do.”

         “Right, like you had no other choice but to shoot.” Sherlock remarks.

         “I could have chosen not to if I had a choice in the matter,” Sebastian argues on her behalf. “But James doesn’t give choices, he gives orders.”

         “And what else did he order you to do?”

         “Watch you.” Sebastian answers. “And how could I not? You’re an interesting person to watch, Sherlock. Especially the day of your fall. You were an angel falling from grace. Though the accusations being said to you were false, you were falling hard and fast from your heaven.”

         Sebastian just smiled faintly.

         “You stood here, defiant, taking the fall for those you love and care for.” Sebastian continued. “Something James would never be able to do. He’ll let the world burn before he did such a thing. I think he admired that part of you. Might have also been jealous of what you had.”

         “That seems hard to believe.”

         “I’m not asking you to believe it.” Sebastian states. “I’m just asking you to listen.”

         Sherlock remained silent and Sebastian took this as her cue to continue with her story.

         “I still don’t know how you did it,” she starts off. “How you survived this big of a fall. I know Molly had something to do with it but I’m still trying to find that puzzle out.”

         “So you think reenacting the scene would help you?”

         “It’s how I work sometimes.” Sebastian answers. “We can’t all have the ability to know the answers by one single glance, Mr. Holmes. Some people depend on more than just sight and deduction.”

         “So tell me what you’ve come up with.”

         “Well… let’s start with the location. This building has meaning to both of you. This was the place where you two first met. So dramatically, this must be the place where you two end it. Then there’s the open space, lack of security that day, and…”

         The more that Sebastian talked, the more Sherlock was actually listening and believing her side of the story. It was all coming together for her, slower than his own process, but it was coming together nonetheless. The conversation turned once again as Sebastian went back to her comicality.

         “You really are an angel, Sherlock Holmes, as much as you deny it, you are. And yet you fell from grace and you were dead for two years. Then you were _reborn_ … people must think you’re the modern day Jesus or something.”

         “They do.” Sherlock states. “Just go on the web and read John’s blog commentary.”

         Sebastian chuckled at that.

         “And how does it feel being the new Messiah to some people?”

         “That’s a conversation for another day,” Sherlock states. “How about you ask the question you really wanted to ask?”

         Sebastian turned around not surprised that he caught on so quickly to what she was doing here. Yes, she was reenacting his fall but there where other things she wanted to know and Bart’s Hospital roof was the only place she seemed fitting to ask him in.

         “How did it feel to fall?” she asks him quietly. Sherlock was surprised that this was the question she wanted to know the answer to. He didn’t even know the answer himself.

         “Falling…” Sherlock whispers to himself. “That was um…”

         “Not boring, I assume.” She replies. “Thrilling.”

         Sherlock was going to agree with her until he saw a familiar expression on her face. One of deathly curiosity.

         “It must have been exhilarating…” she whispers sticking one foot over the edge. “Feeling life so purely as you almost lost it…”

         Sherlock saw her lean forward and immediately grabbed the back of the coat and pulled her back onto the roof. Sebastian landed on his chest, a surprised gasp escaping her lips, and relief washing over her when she noticed that she was safe on the roof.

         “You can let go of me, Sherlock.” Sebastian states after a while. “Sadly for you or your brother, I’m not going anywhere.”

         “My brother?” Sherlock asks immediately pushing her away from him. “What does my brother have to do with this?”

         Sebastian rolled her eyes at him as she took off his coat and handed it to him.

         “That’s a conversation for another day.” Sebastian answers using his own deflective answer on him. “For now, seeing as you seem to believe me more on the chance that James is actually alive, our fist step into stopping him is finding out how he escaped hell.”

 


	9. Asking the Right Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for my unscheduled updates. Inspiration comes rarely but I know where I want the story to go but just have trouble filling what's in between. I hope you're still enjoying it!

         Sherlock took the coat from Sebastian and folded it over his arm. He watched as Sebastian walked to the middle of the roof and looked around. Her eyes inspected every building, every roof, every window that had any angle towards the Bart’s roof. Sherlock didn’t know what she was looking for and waited for her investigation to come at an end so she could tell him.

         “Moriarty just stood here,” Sebastian states marking the spot with the toe of her boot. “He pulled out the gun and placed it into his mouth.”

         Sebastian pulled up her hand, in a form of a gun, and presses her fingers on her lips.

         “James just pulled the trigger so quick,” Sebastian continues. “I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t expect him to actually follow through.”

         “Are you sad that he didn’t say goodbye?” Sherlock mockingly asks her. She just shakes her head at him, ignoring his tone.

         “Oh no, he said goodbye to me alright.” She whispers turning to look at him. “You know James, he has a thing for the dramatics. He had this whole last dinner planned out and made scheming plans that he was never going to follow through. I…umm well, he set me up very well after he supposedly passed. I was set for life.”

         Sherlock didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew Jim Moriarty pretty well. It made sense what Sebastian had told him except for the last part. Sherlock couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of Jim ever taking the time to think of someone other than himself.

         “How do you think he did it?” Sebastian asks Sherlock, breaking him out of his pensive trance. Sherlock quickly pushes his thoughts away and collects himself.

         “Moriarty was clever and had a big network to work with. It’s possible that he had a secret plan of his own to fake his death like I did. Moriarty has connections to the right kind of people to fake deaths. For example, the Irene Adler situation.”

         “I, myself, have come to that conclusion as well but the question that remains is _how_ did he do it?” she asks him. “How was he able to fake a suicide?”

         “How did I survive a fall?” Sherlock asks gaining her attention quickly. He steps towards her and looks down at her. “You’re asking the wrong questions. You won’t find answers if you’re stuck on a question that has a thousand answers, a thousand possibilities.”

         “Then what question should I be asking?” Sebastian asks Sherlock. The consulting detective just shakes his head at her, disappointed as to how she was quickly giving up.

         “Come on, you know this.” Sherlock finds himself encouraging her. “You know this man, inside and out.”

         “He stood here…” Sebastian begins again, turning around on the roof. “He stood here, gun in mouth, and the trigger pulled to quickly. I almost missed it… I almost…”

         Sherlock suppressed the grin that was forming on his lips as he saw Sebastian put all of the pieces together.

         “James wore a coat that day. He never wears a coat… he doesn’t like hiding the elegance of his Westwood suit.” Sebastian begins to ramble as she realizes her breakthrough. “I thought it strange that day but I didn’t comment him on it. He was on a roof, I just assumed he got cold.”

         Sebastian couldn’t help but smile as she turned quickly on her heels searching for the perfect spot.

         “James’ coat had the collar popped up. One would think it was because he was engulfing his role as the villain but no… he was hiding something.” Sebastian explains excitedly.

         “What was Moriarty hiding?” Sherlock asks her not understanding where her train of thought was leading. His mind had his own theories but none were like hers.

         “You’re asking the wrong question,” Sebastian answers as she turns to him. “It doesn’t matter what he was hiding, it matters what he did with it.”

         Sebastian turns away from him once more, her eyes searching again for something that Sherlock was unaware of.

         “There!” Sebastian shouts pointing at a window from a building two rows down. It was high enough to look down at Bart’s roof and was just at the right angle to shoot down at James. “That must have been the place of the other sniper!”

         “The sniper…” Sherlock voices out his confusion and once again Sebastian turns to him excitedly.

         “Moriarty never shot a bullet, it was a blank.” Sebastian states. “It was all staged.”

         Sebastian seeing Sherlock’s interest grabs his hands and starts to pull him towards the positions of that day. Sherlock was in front of her, playing himself, while Sebastian stood right in front of him, playing Moriarty.

         “James came in with a coat, popped collar, and a gun hidden in his jacket.” Sebastian says setting the scene. “He’s hiding something on the back of his neck, no one’s aware of it except himself and the sniper at that window. That window is the precise location to shoot at his left side, reducing the risk of getting hit on his neck.”

         Sherlock could only watch her as she painted the picture for him.

         “He raises the gun to his mouth,” Sebastian continues. “Surprise! He pulls the trigger, causing you to race into action because your deadline’s up.”

         “What does my fall have to do with Moriarty’s fake death?” Sherlock asks her.

         “You’re still asking the wrong question! Don’t you see what he tricked you to do?” Sebastian exclaims excitedly. “Come on, Sherlock. You know this man... you know how he works.”

         Sherlock sighs hating how the tables had turned and it was him who had no answers to give. He closed his eyes tightly and rushed through his mind palace for this one memory. All he could remember after Moriarty shooting himself was running up to the ledge in order to end all of this madness. All of a sudden, someone else came into view.

         “Look closer, Sherlock.” Sebastian states beside him. “Was Moriarty bleeding enough for a headshot? Was his brain and skull scattered on the roof? Was there gunpowder on his finger?”

         Sherlock, from the ledge, turns back and could only see a pool of blood around Moriarty but nothing else. No bone, no brains, just an increasing pool of blood.

         “You see it now?” Sebastian asks beside him on the ledge. “What he hid, a blood bag hidden on the back of his neck, with the right precision and an accurate shooter… You see how he did it, how he faked his own death! You believe me now, don’t you?”

         Sherlock was having trouble believing that his own brashness of the situation two years ago allowed him to make this big of a slip up. He allowed Moriarty to fool him once more and it could cost him everything. In two years, Sherlock was able to dismantle Moriarty’s network, but in those two years Moriarty was just creating a new one, possibly a stronger one. Sherlock realizing this mistake causes him to raise his arms beside him and step off the ledge.

         “Sherlock!” Sebastian exclaims in front of him. Sherlock snaps his eyes open and looks at a concerned looking Sebastian. They were both still standing on the roof, in the same location as before. “You weren’t answering me, you got too lost in your own mind, are you alright?”

         Sherlock doesn’t respond and makes his way to the ledge and sits down. Sebastian follows after him and kneels in front of him, her eyes meeting his directly.

         “We put the missing pieces together.” Sebastian states. “We’ve got the whole picture.”

         Sherlock doesn’t respond to her and having no other choice she continues.

         “We know how James faked his death.” Sebastian tells him. “Now ask the right question, Sherlock.”

         Sherlock raises his head and his eyes meet hers.

         “Who was the other sniper that day?”


	10. Flattery Makes Friends and Truth Makes Enemies

         John was pacing in the living room concerned while Mary sat in his chair, a hand on her belly, watching him stress. They’ve been at Sherlock’s apartment for only a few minutes and John was making up random scenarios in his head due to the message he received on the train. Mary tried to assure that things were probably all right but John couldn’t help but be worried about what emergency Sherlock was in now.

         It’s been awhile since John has worked cases with Sherlock. Between working at his clinic and Mary’s pregnancy, John had assisted Sherlock in fewer and fewer cases. Sherlock hadn’t mentioned the change and John hadn’t thought to bring it up but it seemed they both shared a mutual unhappiness due to their adventure together being diminished. Even though, John loved Mary and the child they were going to have together, he couldn’t help but miss the cases he was already abandoning.

         Now, Sherlock was texting him for his aid and John was stressed as to what could have happened in his absence. Sherlock could hold his own but John still worried that his friend could have bitten off more than he could chew. The consulting detective did have the tendency to insult someone and undermining their tolerance to it. With these thoughts in mind, John continued to pace.

         To everyone’s relief, the door to 221B opened and closed. John stopped his pacing and Mary sighed in relief at that. They could hear the creaking of the stairs and soon the face of Sherlock and Sebastian burst through. John looked at Sherlock with concern mostly because of the urgency of his message and partially because Sebastian was by his side.

         “What are you doing here, John?” Sherlock asks, confusion written on his face. “I thought you were going to go visit your sister, Harry.”

         “We were,” John states looking at Sherlock with confusion as well. “We turned back around when you texted me of an emergency.”

         “An emergency…?” Sherlock begins to ask before Sebastian pulled his phone out of her hand.

         “Forgive me,” she states handing Sherlock his phone back. “That was my doing. I didn’t know you were going out of town but it’s all the same, we do have an emergency.”

         John narrowed his eyes at Sebastian who was smiling at him as if there was nothing wrong.

         “You…” he whispers before glancing up at Sherlock. “You two have been…”

         “Working a case,” Sebastian answers. “And I like to think we finally got a breakthrough.”

         “Really?” Mary pipes in interested while John was slowly getting annoyed and angry.

         “Really.” Sebastian answers excitedly. She opens her mouth to say more but John cuts her off before she could even start.

         “You texted me from Sherlock’s phone, impersonating his signature and everything, drag me out of my short vacation with my pregnant wife just because you two got a bloody breakthrough!”

         “Well, yes.” Sebastian says nonchalantly.

         Mary looks up concerned at Sebastian and places a hand on John’s arm preventing him from spluttering another angry response. Sherlock looked between Sebastian and Mary in confusion before focusing on John’s dissipating anger.

         “What is this breakthrough you dragged us out here?” John asks more calmly than before.

         “Moriarty had two snipers that day on the roof,” Sherlock starts to explain. “One of them being Sebastian who was supposed to shoot you if I didn’t follow my end of the deal and the other was supposed to shoot a false blood bag that was hidden in Moriarty’s extended collar to give the illusion that Moriarty shot himself in the head.”

         John couldn’t help but chuckle at this.

         “You think he’s actually faked his death?” John laughs out. “After denying the possibility for months now?”

         “Sebastian opened my eyes to the reality that Jim Moriarty is indeed alive.” Sherlock tells him. “And we know how he faked his death.”

         “Ok so if that’s the case, why did you text me to come here?” John asks them. “Unless there’s an emergency you two have yet to make me aware of.”

         “Well, Sherlock didn’t know I texted you, but there is a small emergency… more like an urgent pressing matter.” Sebastian answers.

         “Which is…?” John asks.

         “Mary.” Sebastian states turning to look at the seated pregnant woman. “We need your help.”

         “What does my wife have to do with this case?” John exclaims at Sebastian who wasn’t afraid of John’s harsh tone.

         “Isn’t it obvious, John?” Sherlock intervenes. “The know each other. They’re sister in arms, friends...”

         John turned to Sebastian and Mary, flickering his focus between the both women trying to grasp the concept of them working together, knowing each other.

         “You two… you two know each other.” John states noticing the calm stoic expressions both women were sharing. “You two worked together in your spy missions and assassinations and with Moriarty…”

         “I never worked with Moriarty.” Mary corrects. “I’ve only worked with her but even then I never knew her name. She always changed it… kept her identity a secret.”

         “Would you like to know my real name, Mary?” Sebastian asks her trying to clear out the tension in the air. Mary quickly nodded to her question.

         “I’ve been wanting to know for years now.” Mary confesses to a still in shock John and a losing interest Sherlock.

         “I’m Sebastian Moran.” She tells her. “Otherwise known as the Tiger or Moriarty’s second in command or my favorite, the second most dangerous man in London.”

         “Oh my God,” Mary sighs out with a smile. Her laughter then consumed the room as she stared up at Sebastian with awe and fascination. “I’ve been working with Sebastian Moran all these years. I’ve been working with… it’s an honor to have worked by your side.”

         “Oh, Mary. Please…” Sebastian says obviously flattered by Mary’s enthusiasm. “We’re friends. No need to act this way with me.”

         Sherlock plopped down on the couch now officially bored with the turn of the conversation while John was so appalled by his wife’s reactions and the revelation of her past.

         “Are you seriously this happy about working alongside with a notorious hitman, Mary?” John exclaims. “Are you insane?”

         “I know I vowed to hide my past with you, John, but I too was a hitman, one good enough to work alongside _the_ Sebastian Moran.”

         “Sherlock are you hearing this?” John asks turning to his friend in hopes of having some back up to this alarming situation.

         “From what I’ve heard, Mary is better than I had deduced her to be.” Sherlock states. “Even I can understand why she feels honored.”

         John opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say that could describe his shock of his wife and an assassin hired by Moriarty could have worked together in their crimes. Sebastian, Sherlock, and Mary were already tired by John’s overreactions and returned to the urgent matter at hand.

         “So you said you needed my help,” Mary says turning to Sebastian. “What can I do?”

         “Well we both knew the same A-list hitmen.” Sebastian starts of. “I need you to reach out to them and ask them of their affiliations with James, and if they’ve had some history with him can you compile those names in a list.”

         “I can easily do that, but why can’t you?” Mary asks her. “Like you said, we both know the same people.”

         “Like you, I worked with them but mainly just once and I can’t remember what alias I used with them.” Sebastian tells her. “You’re the only person I’ve worked with in which I used more than 2 names.”

         Once again, Mary was over the moon with this detail but knew to hide it since her husband was still trying to not explode due to the news.

         “Considered it done,” Mary says as she rises from her seat. John forgets his anger and grabs her arm and helps her steady her balance. “Anything else I can do?”

         “Actually, yes.” Sebastian answers. “If you can also do a search in some freelance mercenaries; ex-army, secret agents, trained officials… anyone who’s capable of shooting from quarter a mile range with slight wind and a very small target. They might have also aided James in his fake death.”

         Mary took mental note of that and nodded at Sebastian. John knew better than to try to convince Mary out of this task. His wife was bedbound and had raging hormones. There was also the reminder that she was a retired hitman and he knew which battles to go into and which ones to avoid. Without another word, they both left the apartment leaving Sebastian and Sherlock once again alone.

         “So you don’t have anything to say?” Sebastian asks taking a seat in Sherlock’s designated chair. “Any input you want to put in our case?”

         “Not at this moment,” Sherlock responds surprised. “It seems you’ve got it handled.”

         “Good,” Sebastian states rising from Sherlock’s seat, ready to leave his apartment. “Until tomorrow, Sherlock.”

         Before Sebastian could make it past the door, Sherlock sat up from his seat with questions driving his mind.

         “When did you pick-pocket my phone?”

         “During your blanked out state,” Sebastian answers with a shrug.

         “And your friendship with Mary, you enjoyed rubbing it in John’s face, why?”

         “Because I got bored,” Sebastian answers. “And it seemed fun to watch the usual collected John to lose his marbles.”

         Sebastian just smiled at him and left with one wink in his direction. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her retreating figure. She hummed a low melody, which soon disappeared as she closed the door to her apartment. Sherlock’s mind was still overflowing with questions but one thing settled them, he had a case and he had a new partner, one that seemed to get as bored as he did.


	11. Poisoned Apples from Poisoned Trees

         “I believe John’s getting annoyed by me as of lately,” Sebastian states as she looked through the list of names Mary had handed to her. She was sitting on the couch in Sherlock’s apartment as he played the violin. Sherlock was trying very hard to ignore her but she thought out loud which was infuriating to him. Sebastian knew this but continued to pester him. “Don’t you want to know why?”

         “No, I don’t want to know why.”

         “I think it has something to do with me spending time with you,” Sebastian answers.

         “Oh please,” Sherlock says dropping the violin on his lap. “I’ve had enough of this…”

         “He’s jealous,” Sebastian states. “I would have thought you would notice.”

         “John’s not…” Sherlock starts to say before pausing. She might have a point, John has been visiting more than usual, especially when Sebastian was around.

         “For being the smartest man in London, you can be pretty dumb.” Sebastian states as she marked names off Mary’s list. “He’s been breathing down my neck ever since I heckled him. I think, no wait, I know he’s jealous I’m working cases with you now.”

         Sherlock remained silent and Sebastian looked up at him realizing that he was actually listening to her.

         “You didn’t really notice did you?” Sebastian asks him. “You really don’t have a clue in reading emotions.”

         “I do not!” Sherlock exclaims. “It’s all pure science.”

         “My God,” Sebastian complains. “Not you too.”

         “What is that supposed to mean?” Sherlock asks her.

         “You sure do know how to pick them, Seb.” She muttered to herself as she returned to crossing names off the list. “Always picking the weird ones.”

         “Sebastian, what did you mean?” Sherlock asks her again even though he suspected the answer. Sebastian just sighed, put down her pen, and looked up at Sherlock with a serious expression.

         “I know you hate hearing this, but you and Moriarty are very much alike in your cleverness and overwhelming knowledge of all things.” Sebastian tells him. “Except he uses his skills on exploiting people while you do it just in certain and beneficial occasions.”

         Sebastian returned back to her work after saying her two cents. Sherlock once again became silent as he just watched her work. As per usual, her whole appearance changed.

         She wore glasses on the tip of her nose, a sweater that was too big on her and leggings that stuck to her long legs. She was dressed for a day in, but he knew better than that. Sebastian was dressed comfortable but he knew that she held at least two weapons under the big baggy sleeves of her sweater.

         “Are you done reading me today?” Sebastian asks him without looking up from her work. Sherlock hearing this snapped his eyes back to her face. Sebastian wasn’t looking at him, instead she was still looking down at the paperwork around her. “Yes, good. I’ve narrowed down the list.”

         “Go on,” Sherlock says clearing his throat.

         “No one,” Sebastian sighs out looking up at him. “No one could have pulled up this kind of job. Mary piled up a good list here but I know these people, they wouldn’t have the experience to pull something off like this.”

         “Then what do you suggest we do?” Sherlock asks me.

         “I would say, call your brother.” Sebastian states. “We have no other choice.”

         “Why must we resort to Mycroft already?” Sherlock complains.

         “Do you have any other suggestions or leads?” Sebastian asks him.

         “Allow me to think in quiet and peace for once and something will surely come to me.”

         Sebastian rolled her eyes at him but nodded, zipping her lips and throwing away the key. Sherlock scoffed at the sarcastic action before closing his eyes and just letting himself shift through his mind palace. Memories replayed and he searched for clues that could help him now. He shifted through everything. The first mentioning of Moriarty, his first meeting with him, their close encounters to his network, and then their last confrontation. Their last confrontation, fairy tales, _every fairy tale needs a good old fashioned villain_ …

         “His body!” Sherlock exclaims, sitting up suddenly from his seat. He looks around and finds his living room filled in darkness. The sun had set awhile ago and he hadn’t noticed that he was once again alone.

         “That took you quite some time,” Sebastian states walking into the room, turning on the light. She was balancing a tray on her hand as she entered the room, settling it on his desk. “I went ahead and made you dinner so eat…”

         “I don’t eat during a case. It slows me down.” Sherlock says dismissing the tray with a wave of his hand.

         “We’re in no rush, Sherlock.” Sebastian tells him. “This case is going to take quite some time and you have to be alive if you want to solve it.”

         Sherlock ignores her statement and starts to pick at the string of his violin as he thought back to his discovery.

         “His body…” Sherlock said slowly.

         “That’s a dead end, Sherlock.” Sebastian says causing Sherlock to look up at her. “His body was taken away in a black body bag and you want to know who took his body?”

         “Who?”

         “Your brother,” Sebastian states. “Mycroft.”

         “How do you know that?”

         “Because the people who took him all wore that same obvious secret service suit.” Sebastian says with a scowl. “Idiots, the lot of them. I could clearly see their matching ear pieces through my rifle scope.”

         “My brother wouldn’t have…” Sherlock says before trailing of as his minds thought of the possibilities. “Why would he…?”

         “James bested you both,” Sebastian tells him. “He probably took the body as a trophy or something but then… well…”

         “What do you know?” Sherlock asks narrowing his eyes at her.

         “Eat your dinner and I _might_ just tell you.” Sebastian says crossing her arms at him. Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance before pulling the tray on his lap and taking a small spoonful of the soup she made.

         “Happy?” Sherlock asks sarcastically.

         “No,” Sebastian answers. “Sherlock, I don’t know how to put this in terms you’ll understand since simple common sense goes over you head, but I need you to actually eat. I can’t have you starving yourself to death because I need you at your best when we find James, ok? Does that make sense in that big head of yours?”

         Sherlock remained silent as Sebastian’s stare burned on him. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing as she said as he took a few more spoonful of soup. Sebastian continued to stare at him before he finished the bowl. Sherlock made sure to make a big deal as he showed her the empty bowl before setting it back on his desk. Sebastian still seemed to watch him unsurely before resigning.

         “What made you think about checking his body?” Sebastian asks him.

         “I’m not in the mood to answer your silly questions,” Sherlock begins to argue but Sebastian glared at him.

         “Look, bear with me.” Sebastian cuts him off. “Just answer the question.”

         Sherlock just sighed but gave away to her madness of process thinking.

         “ _Every fairy tale needs a good old fashioned villain…”_ Sherlock tells her. “He based a lot of things on fairy tales and I overlooked one of his messages.”

         “Which was?” Sebastian asks curiously.

         “The apple.” Sherlock states. “He took a bite of an apple and gave it to me.”

         “Snow White,” Sebastian whispers.

         “Exactly,” Sherlock states sitting back on his seat, watching Sebastian make sense of his madness. She finally stopped and looked back at him.

         “Your brother knew he was alive, Sherlock.” Sebastian tells him. “I think he’s known all along.”

         “My brother and I don’t see eye to eye, but I doubt he’ll hide this from me.” Sherlock states.

         “Mr. Holmes, your brother wasn’t surprised when James made his debut a few months back, why do you think that is?” Sebastian asks him.

         Sherlock was once again left in the silence of his own thoughts, pondering what Sebastian had told him. He quickly slipped his hands to the pocket of his blazer and pulled out his phone, dialing a number he never used.

         _“Perfect timing, little brother.”_ Mycroft greets from his end. _“I was just about to give you a call.”_


	12. The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend

**_“Perfect timing, little brother.”_ Mycroft greets from his end. _“I was just about to give you a call.”_**

****

         Sherlock was annoyed by Mycroft’s statement. Either his brother had really good timing or he had re-installed cameras in his apartment and knew that he and Sebastian were catching on to him. It was most likely the latter reason which annoyed Sherlock the most.

         “You’ve been watching me Mycroft?” Sherlock asks him.

         _“Nonsense brother.”_

“I just found a camera,” Sebastian pipes in as she pulls out a small device from behind a painting.

         “Would you like to try again, Mycroft?” Sherlock responds as Sebastian walked around the apartment pulling out small spyware out of many spots.

         _“Tell your little sniper friend to stop manhandling those devices,”_ Mycroft exclaims. _“She doesn’t know how much those things are worth.”_

         “Does he really think I’m an idiot?” Sebastian asks out loud in which Sherlock looks up at her. “I might have been a killer but that doesn’t make me a fool to high-tech technology.”

         “Apologize to Ms. Moran, Mycroft.” Sherlock taunts on his end of the phone call.

         _“As if…”_ Mycroft starts to argue before Sherlock cuts him off.

         “Don’t make me tell mommy how disrespectful you are towards women.” Sherlock threatens him.

         _“Sherlock, you wouldn’t dare!”_

         “Oh, I would.”

         “This is rich,” Sebastian says with a smirk one that Sherlock shared with her.

         _“Fine… Ms. Moran, forgive me for my rude behavior…”_

“And your rude remarks towards me.” Sebastian states.

         _“…and my rude remarks towards you…”_

“And for breaking and entering into my own home.”

         _“…and for breaking and entering into your own home.”_

Sherlock wanted to ask about the last two remarks before Mycroft cleared his throat and went straight to business.

         _“Now that we have the unpleasantness settled, I’ve called you to ask a favor of you.”_

“I don’t do favors for you Mycroft.” Sherlock states.

         _“You will if I give you what you want.”_ Mycroft responds. _“You want information of Moriarty’s corpse. I can give that to you in exchange you give me what I want.”_

“Which is?” Sherlock asks him.

         _“Sebastian.”_

“Sebastian?” Sherlock asks confused.

         “I’m really flattered that you want me, Mycroft, but that’s a definite no.” Sebastian tells him.

         _“You don’t have much of a choice,”_ Mycroft states. _“A car will be there ready to pick you up in a few minutes. Do be ready.”_

The phone call ends with a click and the room fell into silence. Sherlock didn’t know what to make with his brother’s interest with Sebastian. Of course, she was the only person who was close to Moriarty but Mycroft has other ways to draw her out into talking to him. Whatever he wanted from her, it couldn’t be good.

         “Your brother’s an ass,” Sebastian mutters as she slipped on some tennis shoes and started to tie them.

         “Are you really going to fall for his trap?” Sherlock asks her.

         “I don’t think it’s a trap,” Sebastian answers him. “He needs something from me or else he wouldn’t have used leverage against us.”

         “This is most likely an assassination attempt.”

         “Well that sounds like fun,” Sebastian giggles out as she pulled her hair up in a ponytail.

         “You’re mad.”

         “Yes, and so are you.” Sebastian states as the doorbell rings. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe your brother is about to take me for a ride around town.”

         Sherlock didn’t know what to make of that and just let Sebastian run down the stairs and leave. She seemed to know something he didn’t and that infuriated him once again. He sits back on his chair and starts to deduct some reasonable possibilities.

__________________ 

         Sebastian found Agent Price waiting for her. She smiled at his familiar face as he opened the door for her.

         “Agent Price, is so nice to see you again.” She tells him. “How’s Agent Martin? Has his nose healed?”

         “He had to get a nose job,” he tells her. “He hates it but I think it makes him look more handsome.”

         Sebastian couldn’t help but chuckle at that as she entered the black tinted car. Agent Price made his way around the car and got into the driver seat. They both made polite conversation as he drove her around town.

         “So this meeting with Mycroft… you wouldn’t happen to know what it’s about?”

         “No ma’am.”

         “Well seeing that he sent you, one of my favorite agents of his that I’ve come to like, he’s buttering me up for something.” Sebastian states. “I just don’t know what.”

         “I’m sure is nothing much, ma’am.” He tells her as he stops in front of a dark, empty building.

         “I’m starting to think you’re lying to me Price.” Sebastian whispers as he came around to open the door to her. “Thank you,” she tells him as she steps out to the sidewalk. “Tell Martin I say hi and happy 7 year anniversary.”

         “Will do, ma’am.” Agent Price says with a tilt of his hat before getting into the car and driving away.

         Sebastian sighed as she took in the sight of the building. Most of the windows were closed off or broken. The door looked like it was locked with chains and what not. There was graffiti decorating all over the brick walls. Having no other choice, Sebastian walked up to the doors and found that doors were wrapped in chains but not locked. She slips the chains out of the handles and steps through.

         The light was dim but she followed them down to the hall. She then turned left and continued walking down the maroon colored halls before reaching a large abandoned ballroom. It had an old dusty chandelier on top and furniture was covered in white sheets. The only exception was the table set in the middle of the dance floor which had a tea set and a tray with a variety of pastries. Mycroft sat waiting, drinking tea on one side, while a seat was vacant opposed to him.

         Sebastian made her way towards him and took a seat. She didn’t know what to make of this. This was certainly not Mycroft’s style in threatening or manipulation.

         “If you wanted to ask me out for tea, all you had to do is ask.” Sebastian joked as Mycroft poured her cup with tea.

         “I assure you this isn’t a nice sit down,” Mycroft states. “But woman do love pastries so I thought…”

         “Sexist, Mr. Holmes.” Sebastian exclaims. “Your categorizing me into the frail, soft, pink-loving women stereotype. I thought you knew me better than that.”

         “I do,” Mycroft says sitting back on his seat. “Just like I know you have two weapons under the sleeve of your sweater. I would like for you to dispose of them.”

         Sebastian rolled her eyes at him before rolling up her sleeve and unstrapping the dagger that she had wrapped around there. She then moved to her next sleeve and unstrapped the small knife that she kept there.

         “You do know you’re missing one, right?” Sebastian asks him with a smirk. Mycroft narrowed her eyes at her, unsure if she was bluffing or telling the truth. “If you don’t mind closing your eyes. The gun I have hidden is in a place I don’t want you to see.”

         Mycroft quickly closed his eyes, a blush creeping onto his throat and cheeks, as he heard shuffling around before a loud thud is heard coming from the table.

         “You can open your eyes now,” Sebastian instructs as she retucks her sweater.

         Mycroft slowly opens his eyes and finds a small handgun on the table that was aimed at him. He then looks up at her in surprise that she was actually telling the truth.

         “My brother and I were wrong when we thought there was two.” Mycroft mutters under his breath as he took up his cup.

         “Yes, you two were.” Sebastian says knowing this already. “Men tend to forget that we can hide weapons in other items of clothing. Let’s take my bra for example.”

         Mycroft squirmed at her vocabulary which caused Sebastian to chuckle at his boyish attitude.

         “My God, if you squirm with me saying bra, I wonder what would happen if I drop the p-word or other naughty words.”

         “I was raised to be a gentleman.” Mycroft says clearing his throat. “I don’t…”

         “Clearly, you don’t.” Sebastian finishes for him. “But I’m sure you didn’t drag me out here to talk about the sturdy stick that’s up your ass. What do you want from me, Mycroft?”

         “Very crude creature you are.” Mycroft comments before setting down his cup and pulling out a thick file and handing it to her. “This is what I want from you.”

         Sebastian starts to flip through the file which ended up being more of a compiled list of high end criminals. She knew all of them of course. The pictures and the information collected was just a slim cover to what she knew about them. She quickly flipped through all of it, not bothering reading the names labeled on each picture, before she found an invitation at the end of it.

         “What do you want me to do with this?” Sebastian asks Mycroft as she read through it. There seemed to be a charity event taking place next weekend that was red-carpet level.

         “This charity event that you’ve been invited to is a cover for a meeting that all of these A-list criminals are attending.” Mycroft explains to her. “I had planned to send in my own agents but they would easily notice my infiltration. I need someone who’s already been in those circles.”

         “Ok,” Sebastian says putting the file aside while she kept the invitation in her hand. “You want me to attend this so-called charity event, infiltrate the meeting, and then what? Record the whole session?”

         “Yes.”

         “No can do, Mycroft.” Sebastian says rising from her seat. “You don’t know how they handle these kinds of things. It’s security measures after security measures. I won’t even make it past the front door, they’re that good in finding a wire.”

         “Fine, then what do you propose?” Mycroft asks her.

         “This is my deal, Mycroft.” Sebastian says sitting back down and staring at him seriously. “I do this, but under the cover of James’ former secretary not as Sebastian Moran. They know me as his secretary and if I suddenly reveal myself as _the_ Sebastian, I will end up dead before the night even starts. Second, no wire, no secret earpiece or video camera. You’ll have to deal with my memory and ability to verbally repeat what I learned. Third, you’re going to pay for all of the costs, such as the limousine and my dress and your brother’s suit.”

         “My brother’s suit?” Mycroft asks confused. “You can’t seriously think I’m allowing Sherlock to go to this. They’re criminals and he practically works for the Scotland Yard!”

         “Listen here, Mycroft.” Sebastian states in a very low and threatening voice. “I can’t go into this meeting by being James’ secretary. I don’t have the authority level to be one of the Alpha males who gets to sit on the Alpha males table. I need Sherlock to be my way in. He’s well-known, smart, clever. They won’t suspect me if I’m clutching onto his arm. Besides, Sherlock defeated James, they’ll respect him. Also, Sherlock will be my insurance if you dared to do something against my wellbeing. Understood?”

         “You made yourself very clear,” Mycroft responds clearly unhappy with the turn of the situation. “Anything else?”

         “After we do this for you, you have to do something for us.” Sebastian tells him. “Sherlock and I want to know what kind of deal you had with James. Or if that’s not the case, how you, a man with high security in everything and everywhere you go, managed to lose track of James’ body.”

        


	13. Taking the Perfect Shot

         “You can’t be serious?” Mary asks her as they window shop. Sebastian was casually looking at the stores while Mary ate a chocolate muffin. Sebastian had just shown her the black card credit card that was meant to purchase her evening gown and heels for the Friday’s charity event. Mary took the card out of her hand and stared at it.

         “There isn’t even a designated name on it.” Mary comments. “This gets lost and anyone can do anything with it.”

         “You want to purchase baby stuff it, you can.” Sebastian tells her. “My treat.”

         “More like the Queen’s treat.” Mary chuckles out. “My God we could dent the royal treasury.”

         “I was planning that already,” Sebastian states as she leads her into a store. “Mycroft will regret agreeing so quickly to my deal.”

         “What is with that, honestly?” Mary asks me as we look through the store.

         “He’s scared.” Sebastian answers. “He’s scared of me.”

         “I’m scared of you,” Mary chuckles out. “But you’ve changed.”

         “Really?” Sebastian asks him. “How so?”

         “You haven’t killed anyone since you’ve gotten to London, that must be a new record.”

         Sebastian just rolled her eyes as she passed on dresses to the nearby salesperson.

         “You also seem to actually like Mrs. Hudson and I think you’re growing fond of Sherlock.”

         “Right, I’m growing fond of Sherlock, that’s very funny.” Sebastian says as she laughs at Mary’s statement. “Mary, that’s absurd.”

         “You spend a lot of time with him.”

         “And you know I spent a lot of time at the bottom of a tequila bottle down in L.A. but that doesn’t mean I’m fond of it.”

         Sebastian ignored Mary’s eye roll as she went into the dressing room to try on the array of dresses she had picked out.

         “Look, I know what you’re trying to do.” Sebastian tells her through the dressing room. “You want your best friend to have a significant other as your husband John Watson wants his best mate to have someone on his side. Now you think it would be best to put me and him together while John is still trying to figure out if Sherlock has a preference for men or women. So, while he tries to find that out, you’re here, behind the scenes, pulling the strings to get him and I together.”

         Sebastian steps out on an elegant black piece, with a low back. Sebastian pulled her hair back as she admired the dress on a nearby mirror. Her eyes finds Mary’s who’s admiring the dress on her.

         “It’s not going to work Mary.”

         “Why not?” Mary asks her. “That dress looks great on you!”

         “I meant about your plan.” Sebastian corrects her. “I’m evil and Sherlock’s not. Not much in common…”

         Sebastian walks back into the dressing room and tries another dress on.

         “You two have history with Moriarty. You two get bored. You two like making everyone around you look like fools. You both like games and you like solving puzzles.” Mary lists off as Sebastian steps out in a dark blue gown. Sebastian just sighed but Mary continued. “Just take this whole thing for example, why would you want Sherlock as a date?”

         “Because he’s smart, clever, and he’s my ticket in.” Sebastian answers her as she looks at herself in the mirror with a bored expression. Her hand finds the pockets in the gown and she grins. “Pockets, would you look at that? I could put two guns in here.”

         “Seb…” Mary sighs out.

         “Of course, I can’t pass them through security,” Sebastian continues. “But I could always flirt my way in. Though it really depends on who’s on post … Decisions, decisions…”

         “Seb,” Mary calls out more loudly gaining her attention. Sebastian turns around and takes notice of some other customers and salespersons looking at her direction warily. She just rolls her eyes before turning her focus back on the mirror.

         “I’m not interested in Mr. Holmes, and that’s that.” Sebastian tells Mary before returning back to the dressing room.

         “Don’t you see how you two are so familiar?” Mary asks her. “It would totally work.”

         “I’m not really looking for someone in my life.” Sebastian tells Mary. “And taking in account my dating record, I would say it would be a very bad idea to date Sherlock.”

         “Why because he’s not your type?” Mary asks her as she takes a seat on a chair nearby. Sebastian opens the dressing room just to glare at Mary.

         “No, because he’s exactly my type.” Sebastian states before slamming the door closed.

         “How is that a bad thing then?”

         “I can’t teach men with no hearts how to love, Mary.” Sebastian tells her as she smoothly fixes the wrinkles on the gown. “It’s very impossible.”

         Sebastian walks out of the dressing room and spins around the three-way mirror. The gown she wore was a long sleeve burgundy one that draped perfectly around her slim body. There was a slit on her upper left thigh that would give her access to a strapped handgun or dagger on her leg. In another word, that dress was perfect for this charity event.

         “Seb, you look…”

         “I know,” she says with a grin. “It’s perfect and it’s expensive.”

         “You really like drilling Mycroft, don’t you?” Mary asks amused.

         “It’s one of my favorite past times.” Sebastian tells her as she walks back into the dressing room. She takes off the dress and places it on the hanger before stepping out. She hands the dress off and helps Mary up to the counter.

         “So about Sherlock…” Mary starts up again.

         “I thought we were over this,” Sebastian sighs out.

         “He’s not any regular guy.”

         “I know.” Sebastian states. “He’s a highly-functioning sociopath who solves cases with his best friend and has an addiction to nicotine. He has an annoying older brother and two normal parents. He prefers coffee over tea and plays the violin. He’s clever, too clever, and I like being the smart one in the relationship. I’m not to keen to share that role.”

         Sebastian tilts her head at Mary.

         “Sherlock is a wonderful man, better than most, but he and I wouldn’t work.” Sebastian tells her. “I kill people for a living and he saves them… or most of them. We’re at opposing ends of the world.”

         “No, you two live on the same country, same city, same apartment.” Mary corrects. “You two are working on the same side.”

         “Not for long,” Sebastian tells her. “Once James is dealt with, I will return to my life in America and I will forget all of this ever happened.”

         Sebastian returns her focus to the saleswoman who has seemed to pale and shake in fear due to the conversation she had just overheard. Sebastian just smiled at her as she handed her the black credit card.

         “Would that be all miss?”

         “Yes,” Sebastian states.

         “Will you want the dress delivered alongside the suit or will you take both of them with you?”

         “Excuse me?” Sebastian asks confused. “What suit are you talking about?”

         “It’s a navy blue Westwood, specifically ordered with certain measurements,” she tells me. “A young man ordered it for you.”

         “Westwood…” Sebastian whispers looking at Mary in sudden fear. “Mary, we have to get out of here, James planned-”

         Sebastian wasn’t able to finish her sentence as glass shatters and a bullet grazes Sebastian’s neck. Everyone ducks down and Sebastian, ignoring the trickling of blood on her neck, pushes Mary down and covers her with her own body.

         Screams fill the air and people start running out of the store. She could hear the urgent calls people were making to the police. Sebastian’s eyes scan her surroundings and she takes notice of the dead salesperson that was ringing her up. This destroyed her only lead to someone connected to James and most importantly the sniper behind it all.

 


	14. Glass Slippers

            The store was evacuated and sealed off by the yellow police tape. Three ambulances were parked out on the street taking care of minor injuries caused by the breaking of the glass. Sebastian caught the dead cashier being rolled away in a body bag. She sighed before wincing as the paramedic wiped clean the cut on her neck. After having her cut bandaged, the paramedic placed an ugly blanket over and informed her that the police had questions for her. 

            Sebastian pulled out her phone and started to send out important texts to multiple different people. She was in the midst of sending a text to Mycroft when someone cleared their throat for her attention. Sebastian quickly looked up and caught sight of the familiar silver haired detective. She couldn’t believe her luck. 

            “Ah, Detective Lestrade.” Sebastian greets with a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you face to face.” 

            “You know who I am?” Lestrade asks, a hint of pride in his voice. 

            “Of course I do,” Sebastian responds returning her focus to her phone. “You’re the silly detective that believes Sherlock’s words as gospel.” 

            “Excuse me?” Lestrade asks insulted. “I do not! Who do you think you are miss… Miss?”

            “Do you want my real name or my false one?” Sebastian asks, not looking up from her phone. Lestrade just narrowed his eyes at her and remained speechless at this. Sebastian slowly looks up from her phone and tilter her head at him. “Detective Lestrade, an answer please.”

            “Uh…” Lestrade mutters before wiping his face tiredly and looking down at Sebastian. “Your real name please.” 

            “Moran, M-O-R-A-N.” Sebastian tells him. “Sebastian. S-E-B-A-S-T-I-A-N.” 

            Lestrade was writing this down on his notepad before stopping, realizing what he had just written down. 

            “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me.” Lestrade grits out. “Miss, I need a real name.” 

            “That is my name, Detective.” Sebastian responds cooly, looking down at her phone once more. 

            Lestrade sighs but doesn’t attempt to go further anymore. 

            “Ok Ms. Moran.” Lestrade starts off. “I have some questions for you to answer. Allegations from some customers report that you openly admitted in wanting to carry armed guns to what they assumed was through a high security location in which you would seduce the security on post. Are they right about that?” 

            Sebastian huffed at that with amusement. 

            “Yeah sure…” Sebastian answers waving him for the next question. She looked down at her phone once more that caused Lestrade to glare at her in annoyance.

            “Agreeing with these accusations are likely to end with a trial on court.” Lestrade tells Sebastian. “Are you sure this is what you intend to do?”

            “Perhaps,” Sebastian answers nonchalantly, still staring at her phone. “I’m still playing with the idea.” 

            “And where do you intend to enact that idea?” 

            “Oh look at that, I’m wearing the shock blanket.” Sebastian mutters as she looks down at her phone without a care in the world. “I’m in shock. I don’t think I can help any further Detective.” 

            “What do you mean _you can’t help_?” Lestrade asks her. “Every witness I’ve spoken to mentioned that you said you were a killer, or wanted to hide guns in a dress, or that you killed for a living? You even admitted this yourself. Ms. Moran, you’re not looking very well at your odds in court.” 

            “No one will be convicting me, Detective Lestrade.” Sebastian says looking up at the silver-haired man. She raised her phone up and showed Mycroft’s texts. “Mycroft has wiped my record squeaky clean. If you have any complaints, take it up with him.” 

            Lestrade quickly read over the texts and sighed. He quickly closed his notebook and pocketed it. Detective Lestrade took his time and looked over the woman in front of him. There was a small hint of beauty on her face, nothing spectacular or overwhelming. She seemed to be the woman who would waste her afternoons drinking tea and curling up for a book but it was her tongue that proved that otherwise. It was also her eyes. They held an unsettling mischief that he’s swore he seen on someone else. 

            “Oh honey!” Sebastian exclaims, breaking Lestrade out of his thoughts, as she threw the shock blanket off her and stood up. “I thought you’ll never come!” 

            Lestrade immediately looked back to find Sherlock who had just ducked under the yellow police tape and was making his way towards them.

            Sebastian jumped up and pulled Sherlock into a hug. She felt him stiffened under her and could hear Lestrade restrain a laugh. 

            “I was _so_ scared.” Sebastian fakely whimpers into his chest. “And all of these detectives asking me pointless questions didn’t help. As if they could actually solve this case. They’re all fools… the lot of them!” 

            That cut Lestrade’s laugh short and caused Sherlock to restrain a chuckle of his own. Sebastian quickly placed a kiss on Sherlock’s cheek, who stiffened once more, causing her to snicker. Sebastian turned to Detective Lestrade with a smile on her face. 

            “Are we done Detective?” Sebastian asked him. “As you can see I am well accounted for.” 

            Lestrade looked between Sebastian and Sherlock with mild curiosity. He should have known that the woman was connected with the smartass of Sherlock. Though he didn’t know if it was a simple friendly relation or one romantically. Lestrade shook those thoughts out of his head as he realized that Sebastian and Sherlock were waiting for his response. 

            “No, we’re done.” Lestrade answers with a sigh. “Unless you have anything else you’ll like to tell me Ms. Moran?” 

            “Shoes.” Sebastian mutters under her breath.

            “Excuse me?” Lestrade asks her, thinking he heard her wrong.

            “Shoes,” Sebastian repeats. “I need shoes for my dress… which reminds me, can I have my dress or is it going to be locked up in evidence?”

            “The dress that the murdered cashier was packing up during the time of the shooting?” Lestrade asks her. 

            “Yes, that one.” Sebastian responds not grimacing at the mentions of _murdered cashier_. 

            “I’ll see where the bloody thing ended up.” Lestrade says as he walks away from the pair.

            Sebastian and Sherlock watched Lestrade walk away before turning to one another. 

            “Was that really necessary?” Sherlock asked her.

            “What?” Sebastian asks him confused. 

            “The whole displays of affection and calling me pet names.” Sherlock states. 

            “I like keeping people on their toes.” Sebastian responds. “That includes you and your silly detective friend.” 

            Their conversation was cut short as Dr. Watson ripped through the police tape in search of Mary.

            “Mary!” John shouts. “Mary!” 

            His eyes search through the sea of police men and other before landing on Sebastian. John angrily stalks towards her, seeming ready to pounce on her. Instinctively, Sebastian stands ready for what she believed was an attack while Sherlock simply took a step in front of her, blocking Sebastian from John. 

            “What did you do, Sebastian?” John grits out. “What stupid plan did you do that caused my wife to be harmed? My pregnant wife shall I remind you.” 

            “She did nothing wrong, John.” Sherlock responds for Sebastian instead. “They were only in the wrong place, in the wrong time.” 

            “I just needed a dress and Mary was kind enough to accompany me,” Sebastian adds on. 

            John’s anger was not easily tempered with. His eyes still glared at Sebastian who was standing behind Sherlock. 

            “John… I would never want to put Mary in danger.” Sebastian tells him. “I protected her when the shooting happened. I made sure to have her covered.” 

            “Yes, John.” Mary says entering the conversation, being escorted by no other than Lestrade. “I am perfectly fine. Though apparently my blood sugar is a little too high but other than that, the baby is fine.” 

            John still gave a slight glare to Sebastian before attending to his wife. Lestrade walked up to Sebastian and handed her the shopping bag that had luckily come out clean. 

            “Your dress and suit managed to survive the shooting.” Lestrade tells her. “Mycroft took care of erasing that from our evidence catalog though I don’t see much use of it evidence wise.”

            Sherlock starts to open his mouth, ready to disagree with Lestrade on that point but Sebastian placed a finger on his mouth before facing Lestrade with a smile. 

            “Thank you so much, Detective.” Sebastian tells him. “We’ll be off.”  

            Sebastian hooked her arm around Sherlock and allowed him to escort her off the crime scene. As they ducked under the police tape did Sherlock bombard her with questions. Sebastian answered them all before voicing out what both of them already knew. Moriarty was indeed behind all of this. 

__________________ 

            “You have to wear it.” 

            “No I don’t.” 

            “You must,” Sebastian tells him as she hanged the navy Westwood suit on the hooks behind his bedroom door. “Moriarty ordered this in your measurements. He wants you to wear it for this party.” 

            “I’m not going to wear it.” Sebastian huffs out, rolling over on his bed, his back facing Sebastian. 

            Sebastian rolled her eyes at Sherlock’s childish behavior.

            “Sherlock,” Sebastian calls him out. 

            Sherlock ignored her and continued to stare at the wall ahead of him. 

            “Sherlock.” Sebastian calls out louder. 

            “How did you know the suit is my measurements?” Sherlock asked her.

            “Because they sure as hell not made for James’ size.” Sebastian answered. 

            “So you know Moriarty’s tailing measurements, what were you? His seamstress?” 

            “I was undercover as his secretary, remember?” Sebastian answers. “I needed to know everything about him. Act the role I was given.” 

            Sherlock rolled his eyes at this. 

            “How does he even know that we’re going to this party?” Sherlock asks. “Don’t you find that suspicious?” 

            “James knows everything that occurs in the dark side of our society.” Sebastian explains to Sherlock. “Someone must have tipped someone off who told someone else, who blurted it out in the most vacant cafe, who tipped off some innocent and so on and so on… therefore James found out quickly by keeping his ear very low to the ground.”

            “That made no sense.” 

            “It wasn’t supposed to.” Sebastian tells him. “What does make sense is Moriarty’s purpose of this suit. He wants you to wear it, Sherlock.” 

            “I’m not going to appease Moriarty by wearing that ugly suit.” 

            “It’s not ugly, Sherlock.” Sebastian argues. “It’s actually quite nice.”

            “No means no.” 

            “Fine!” Sebastian exclaims tired of speaking to his back. “I tried to reason with you but I bloody can’t! I’ll let you wallow in your childish pity alone. Once again, you ran someone else out because of your bloody foolishness when it comes to interacting with normal human beings.”

            Sebastian grabbed the suit from the coat hanger and was ready to leave. She turned once more to Sherlock, who still laid with his back on her, refusing to face her.

            “Don’t you see it, Sherlock?” Sebastian tells him. “He enjoys the ideas of fairy tales. And this one… this one is about seeing you dance. You are meant to play Cinderella and James is your fairy godmother. You know I’m right about this and you know we have to play along to his fantasy.” 

            Sherlock kept silent and Sebastian just sighed. 

            “Fine,” she mutters tiredly. “I’m trusting that you won’t do anything to this suit.” Sebastian says as she hangs it on the coat hanger once more. “We might need it later on.” 

            Sebastian turned away and made her way out of Sherlock’s bedroom and towards her own. 

            The subject about the suit hadn’t been touched the next couple of days. The apartment was remotely silent about that matter. Sebastian could see Sherlock glance at the suit from his location in the kitchen. His eyes narrowing as he inspected the Westwood suit through it’s clear casing. Once he noticed that Sebastian was looking at him, he would turn away and return his focus on the microscope in front of him. Sebastian couldn’t help but smile. 

            It wasn’t until later that day, in which Sebastian caught him gazing off to the suit a couple of times, that the silence in the apartment was broken for the first time those couple of days. 

            “Fine,” Sherlock mutters under his breath, glaring at the suit in his room. “I’ll wear the suit.”


	15. Until the Clock Strikes 12

            They were rushing around the apartment and by _they,_ it was more like Sebastian was storming around while Sherlock just watched her in amusement. One minute she would pass with her hair undone, the next it was up in an elegant twist. The next, she was without make-up and then she was. She passed one last time, still in her robe, until this time, she didn’t come out of her closed bedroom. 

            “Are you alright in there, Sebastian?” Sherlock asked her. 

            “Of course I’m fine,” Sebastian huffs as she opened the door. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

            Sherlock didn’t know how to respond as he caught sight of her. [The burgundy dress](http://pin.it/NIQj2ye) fit her tightly and the slit showed the right amount of skin from her left leg. He was speechless for a simple second before his mind came back to him. 

            “I take it you're ready to go?” Sherlock asks as he stands up and slips on his suit coat. 

            “No compliments to share?” Sebastian asks him as she grabs her purse and fixed her lipstick. 

            “You look…beautiful.” Sherlock whispers. This caught Sebastian by surprise but she didn’t get to dwell in the moment as Sherlock hastily opened the door for her and motioned for her to move. 

            “My, my… aren’t you a gentleman tonight?” 

            Sherlock rolled his eyes at her sarcasm but didn’t respond. He escorted her out of the apartment and down to the rented limousine. Sebastian dared not to make fun of him anymore sensing that he was heavy in thought. About what? She hadn’t the faintest clue. 

            “Did you look over the file Mycroft sent over?” Sebastian asks him, trying to fill the silence in the limo. 

            “Of course I did,” Sherlock answers as he checks his watch.

            “Then you know who we’re up against,” Sebastian tells him. “Thread lightly please. Your deductions will not be so easily ignored in here.” 

            “I know,” Sherlock sighs out. 

            “Also, remember to call me by my previous name.” Sebastian reminds him. “Rosalind Bond, James’ former assistant. You know this detail of my past life and because I have viable information you took me in.” 

            “Anything else?” Sherlock asks her, even though he knew all of this and more already. 

            “They will all be watching you,” Sebastian tells him. “You’re walking into the tiger’s den, Sherlock. Make sure they don’t eat you alive.” 

            “And what will you do, if they do?” Sherlock asks her. 

            “I’ll leave you behind and fend for myself.” Sebastian simply answers. Sherlock quirked his brow at her and she just shrugged. “Survival of the fittest, am I right?” 

            “You’re insufferable.” Sherlock comments. 

            “But I am right,” Sebastian retorts. “And you know this.” 

            A moment of silence fills the limo and Sebastian turns to look at the lights of the city. Crowds of people, couples and families were walking through the streets. They were unaware of what was occurring a few blocks down from them. The biggest convention of international villains were meeting for some unknown reason. 

            “Who do you think I am?” Sebastian suddenly asks Sherlock. 

            Sherlock turns to look at her confused, but her gaze was still focused on the people outside. 

            “What do you mean?” 

            “The fairy tale,” Sebastian answers. “What role am I playing tonight?” 

            “I’m supposed to be Cinderella,” Sherlock states. “Moriarty is the fairy godmother who’s watching all of this go down. You… you could be many things.” 

            “Like who?” Sebastian asks him quietly, her mind deep in thought. 

            “Evil stepmother, evil stepsister, or one of those magical aiding creatures.” Sherlock lists off. 

            Sebastian was silent, as if she hadn’t heard him in the first place. 

            “Seb?” 

            She turns to look at him with a concerned stare. 

            “What if…” she trails off, before clearing her throat. “What if I’m Prince Charming?”

            Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. 

            “What if James is planning to split the two of us? When the clock strikes 12, he’ll tear us away from each other.” Sebastian asks in concern. “What if this was his plan all along?” 

            “Then you’re just going to have to stick to my side all night,” Sherlock responds easing her concerns. “Let’s just hope that when midnight comes this limo won’t turn into a pumpkin.” 

            “I doubt he can pull that big of a trick,” Sebastian says with a chuckle. The smile on her face eased Sherlock’s own concerns for the night. She seemed to relax in her seat once more and turned her focus on the people of the street again. 

__________________  

            They arrived at the pristine hotel where cameras were flashing around them. Some celebrities were attending the charity ball which took away the attention from the master criminals who were sneaking inside. As soon as they caught sight of Sherlock, journalists immediately started to take their pictures. Rosalind grasped his arm tightly as he escorted her up the stairs. They posed where they had to before finally making their way in. 

            Security was the first thing they were met with. Rosalind immediately went first, placing her bag into the machine as she walked through the metal detector. The machine goes off and she sighs. Her smile turns to the guard who motions her forward.

            “Nice seeing you again, Ms.Bond.” the guard greets as he slowly waves the wand over her body. 

            “Likewise, Christian.” Rosalind responds. “How are the kids?” 

            “Pesky as usual,” he responds before the scanner goes off at her head. Rosalind tilts her head and shows it to the guard. 

            “Earrings.” 

            Christian continues with the scan and it goes off at her neck. 

            “Necklace.” 

            The wand continues its trail and it goes off once more at the waist. Christina’s eyes widen as he looked up at Rosalind for an explanation. 

            “Ok, you caught me,” Rosalind chuckles out as she reaches through her slit, making sure Christian’s eyes were following after her hand. She quickly pulls out the dagger she had hidden and shows it to Christian.

            “You know weapons aren’t allowed inside,” Christian tells her as he takes the dagger out of her hand. 

            “I know…” Rosalind says. “But how is a lady like myself supposed to protect herself in a room full of sharks?” 

            Christian narrowed her eyes at her and Rosalind sighed. 

            “Honestly Christian,” Rosalind sighs out. “Do you even think I know how to wield that thing? I’m sure the steak knives at the dining table can do more damage than that.” 

            Sherlock watched this scene go down as he was waiting for her to make her way in. He had already passed security but Rosalind was taking too much time playing with the guard.

            “I guess I got to keep an eye out on my favorite girl,” Christian sighs out as he hands Rosalind the knife back. “Take care of yourself for me.” 

            “You know I always do,” Rosalind says as she takes the small dagger back and tucks it back into the high strap in her thigh. 

            “Are you done yet?” Sherlock asks her as she looped her arms into his. 

            “Not even close.” 

            They both stepped into the ballroom that held diplomats, celebrities, and other high ranking officials conversing around the room. The high class criminals were disguised throughout the room, but they were aware of each other and so was Sebastian. Tables were set alongside the room and the opening in the middle was to serve as a dance floor. Rosalind turned to Sherlock with a serious expression. 

            “It’s time for you to dance, Sherlock.” Rosalind tells him. “Dance until the clock strikes 12.” 


	16. Calls from the Past

            All eyes were on them as they entered the ballroom. Certain security members recognized the woman and most of the diplomats recognized the man beside her. This wasn’t a place where Sherlock Holmes would frequent and Rosalind would never have accompanied him. They were quickly the talk of the ball and though the unwanted attention would certainly make this case harder, Rosalind and Sherlock didn’t mind it. 

            “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my beautiful Rosa Linda?” a deep accented voice asks behind them. Rosalind turns around and smiles brightly at the tanned skin man. “Oh my you look beautiful as always, Rosa.”

            “ _Que gusto me da de verte_ , Ricardo.” Rosalind greets simply. The name quickly registered in Sherlock’s mind as he realized that this man is Ricardo Cortez, one of the most wanted criminals in dealing Columbian cocaine. 

            “Now my _querida_ Rosa, you know better than to say my real name.” Ricardo responds. 

            “I bet you wouldn’t mind it if I was screaming it out in private, now would you?” Rosalind says with a flirtatious smile. 

            Ricardo couldn’t help but chuckle at that. 

            “Don’t tempt me Rosa,” Ricardo states. “I would sell my whole empire for a night with you.” 

            Rosalind couldn’t help but laugh at that, her smile causing her eyes to crinkle, just adding to her already existing beauty. 

            “Forgive me,” Ricardo says straying his gaze from Rosalind to Sherlock. “I didn’t mean to ignore you but you must have known, no? Having such a beautiful woman as your date would cause you to be out shined easily.” 

            Ricardo Cortez extends his hand for Sherlock to shake, but Sherlock just scrutinized it with his gaze. 

            “Would your wife enjoy knowing that you’ve been shamelessly flirting with my date?” Sherlock asks him. Ricardo retracts his hand, but his smile was still there. “How about your other two mistresses, hm?” 

            “Sherlock…” Rosalind said in a warning tone as Ricardo’s smile falters, but the threat was made. 

            “You’re good,” Ricardo huffs out. “Better than what I expected you to be.” 

            Rosalind watched him warily as he tucked his hands in his pocket. She was concerned that he would start something out here in the public area. Ricardo was usually hands off when it came down to violence but if the right buttons are pushed, he would instantly get his hands dirty. 

            “Tell me more about the mistresses.” Ricardo asks him. 

            Rosalind let out a relieved breath and Sherlock was surprised that this was what Ricardo was requesting of him.

            “You’re not going to ask me about how I knew all of this?” Sherlock asks him. 

            “I know what you can do, Mr. Holmes.” Ricardo responds. “I just want to know how far you can take it.” 

            Sherlock was surprised with this response and looked down at Rosalind in question. 

            “Tell the man what he wants to know.” Rosalind replies. 

            “The two mistresses you have, I know one of them is here accompanying you.” Sherlock states nodding towards the open bar. “The woman in the black dress and blonde hair. She’s been watching you all night and became very rigid when you approached Rosalind. Protective, but too timid to defend what she believes is hers.” 

            “And how did you know about the other one?” Ricardo asks him curiously. 

            “There’s bruising around your wrist, handcuffs I would say, which I assume are things done in the privacy of your bedroom. Now that does not match up with that blonde woman’s timid behavior. The other woman is very dominant and doesn’t mind branding you as hers.” 

            “How did you know these weren’t from my wife?” Ricardo states as he pulls down the sleeve of his suit jacket. 

            “Because your wife is just like her younger sister over there, afraid to stand up against you.” Sherlock states. 

            “You are very perceptive Mr.Holmes.” Ricardo states as an amused smile grows on his lips. “I can see now why Moriarty had a great interest in you.” 

            “Speaking of James,” Rosalind intercepts. “Have you heard from him?”

            Ricardo shakes his head at her with a serious expression and Rosalind sighs at this.

            “He hasn’t spoken to you?” Ricardo asks. 

            “Not a word,” Rosalind answers. 

            “ _Shit.”_ Ricardo mutters under his breath as he rubbed his mouth nervously. “Rosa Linda, if Moriarty hasn’t spoken to you, from all people, then we are all certainly screwed.” 

            “How so?” Sherlock asks. 

            Ricardo stared at him with no expression on his face. 

            “We can trust him Ricardo,” Rosalind pipes in. “No one knows James as well as Sherlock does.” 

            “You’re forgetting yourself, _querida_.” Ricardo states turning his gaze from Sherlock to Rosalind. “And if you trust him, then so shall I.” 

            Ricardo then glances away from them and sighs. 

            “Shall we?” Ricardo asks them as he motions behind them. Security guards took notice of the signal and open the side doors. Sherlock glanced down at Rosalind who just shrugged at him. 

            Ricardo led the way and Rosalind followed after him. Sherlock hesitated, glancing the rest of the crowd. He took notice that they weren’t paying attention to any of them, obviously ignoring the whole scene. Sherlock heard Rosalind calling after him and so he took his eyes away from the ballroom and stepped inside the side room. 

            The room was lit by a red lighting causing the shadows to be darker than they already are. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the dramatics of them but didn’t voice out his opinions. 

            “Christian told me you were here, Rosa Linda.” Ricardo states. “We weren’t expecting that Mr. Holmes was accompanying you.” 

            “He’s been protecting me.” Rosalind replies. “With James back, I thought it best to hide with the one man who managed to beat him.” 

            Ricardo grimaces at this as he looked at Sherlock. 

            “I must warn you that many people in this meeting would enjoy castrating you.” 

            “Are you one of those people?” Sherlock asks him as they walked down the hall. 

            “Not at all,” Ricardo answers. “You’ve kept my lovely Rosa safe and that thing you do…” 

            “Deductive reasoning.”

            “Yeah, your deductive reasoning is amusing to me,” Ricardo continues. “It would be wise to have a smart man like you on our side.” 

            “So who else is here?” Rosalind asks him. 

            “As if you don’t already know, Rosa.” Ricardo answers as he pulls away the curtain and reveals a smaller ballroom with a long table set for dinner. Rosalind glanced at everyone who was there. She recognized all of them but few knew who she was. They did take notice of the man beside her. Sherlock Holmes was a very public enemy for all of them. 

            “If looks could kill,” Rosalind whispers beside him but Sherlock didn’t feel threatened at all. 

            “They need me.” Sherlock states. “I doubt any of them would try something right now.” 

            “I hope that’s the case then,” Rosalind states as she sees Ricardo motioning them to take a seat next to him. “Because we have a lot to say tonight and so little time.” 

            Sherlock glanced down at Rosalind’s watch and noticed that they only had 2 hours before the clock struck twelve. 


	17. Midnight Madness

            Once they took a seat did all peaceful ties break. Argument erupted from each corner of the table. The Russian weapon salesmen were shouting at the Arabian thieves who were too busy threatening the French prostitution lord. Ricardo and his drug partners were trying to put down the flames but they were brought into the argument as well. It wasn’t until the Russian, Alexei, was about to punch one of the Arabian thieves, Fatima, did Rosalind finally intervene. 

            “We’ve already wasted half an hour arguing about past deals that have gone wrong.” Rosalind shouts. “This is a meeting we all came to because we are all facing the same problem, James Moriarty.” 

            “And what would you know sweetheart?” Alexei shouts at her. “You were Moriarty’s doormat.” 

            “Yes I was,” Rosalind says, not attempting to shy away from the Russian’s defensive stance. “But from each and every one of you, I knew James best. I had a constant interaction with him 24/7. I knew how he liked his tea and what tie he would wear with his suit. I knew his schedule and I knew who he was going to be threatening next. I knew who he liked and who he disliked. So you best believe that from everyone here, I know who he will be targeting next and if you want to know if it’s you, you will sit down, shut up, and listen.” 

            The whole room became silent, all surprised at the woman’s ability to claim the room. No one missed the dark look in her eye before it flickered away. Sherlock watched Rosalind with slight amazement and it seemed that everyone was amazed by her too. 

            “Go on, Rosa Linda.” Ricardo pipes up, an encouraging smile on his lips. “Tell us what you know.” 

            Rosalind took a deep breath and looked down at Sherlock. 

            “James Moriarty was announced dead to the public. A shot through his head which should be very hard to fake and yet he’s done it. James has managed the impossible, faking his death so well that we all just believed it.” 

            “These are facts that we already know,” Yvette the French woman states.

            “I know… I just…” Rosalind trails off and Sherlock couldn’t figure out if her nervousness was being staged or was genuinely real. “James will most likely be contacting all of you at some point. Most of his network has been cleared out and because of this he will be attempting to make up new ties. He needs to clear out his past in order to make room for his present. His blackmail will come and it will be bigger than before.” 

            “What could you possibly mean?” Alexei asks. 

            “James will most likely try to… he’s going to try to get all of you incriminated.” 

            The whole table erupts in argument once more and Rosalind just rolled her eyes. She looked down at Sherlock who had been surprisingly silent the whole night. 

            “Care to help me?” Rosalind asked him.

            “I do enjoy seeing you fail,” Sherlock replied to her causing Rosalind to just glare at him. Sherlock couldn’t help but smile at her anyway. “And I do enjoy hearing you beg for my help so…” 

            Sherlock rises from his seat, the screeching of his chair caught everyone’s attention and Sherlock simply buttoned up his suit jacket before clearing his throat. 

            “I presume I need no introduction,” Sherlock states as everyone glared at the consulting detective. “The only reason I’m here is because for some reason I was persuaded to save you lot from being murdered by a Jim Moriarty.” 

            “Murdered?” Alexei exclaims. “Who said we would get murdered?” 

            “I believe Rosalind hinted it.” Sherlock explains to him. “Because once you get incarcerated by whatever countries government you find yourself hiding in, Moriarty will find you and he will kill you.” 

            “Moriarty wouldn’t dare do his own dirty work.” Fatima pipes in. “Has anyone heard of Sebastian? Whatever happened to that guy?”

            “I couldn’t find a trace of him.” Ricardo answers. “The man was a ghost. Part of me still believes he’s just a story Moriarty made up.” 

            “Rosa, you must have known him.” Yvette states. 

            “I didn’t get the pleasure to meet the man.” Rosalind replies from her seat. “James was certain if I ever met _this_ Sebastian Moran that I would be frightened out of the job.”

            Sherlock caught her sight and she just cleared her throat, motioning him to continue. 

            “If you want me to help you, I need all of you to tell me your association with Moriarty and what he has on you. Keep it short, we don’t have much time.” 

            All of them shared concerning looks. Some secrets were too dark to say out loud, especially to a man who could use that against them. No one dared to speak up, until Rosalind cleared her throat.

            “If none of you speak, he will just deduce it out of you which is wasting already precious time.” Rosalind states. 

            “So why don’t you go first printsessa?” Alexei asks. Rosalind glared at him, but sighed.

            “Another pretty toy, that’s what I am.” Rosalind speaks up. “Running a dark empire, making enemies where you should be making friends, it uhh… it tends to alienate one. James was usually left alone and he worked late hours which meant I worked late hours as well. As you have all suspected in one point or another, James and I were involved. Not romantically of course, just physically. He knew if word got out of this, I would be branded with harsh labels. It became even more dangerous as he made his debut to the world and yeah… I’m Moriarty’s whore and he’ll use that against me to ruin me.” 

            Rosalind cleared her throat and looked up at a shocked table. Sherlock stared at her blank face, unsure again if she was being genuine or not. It didn’t matter though, since everyone around the table ate it all up. 

            “So I confessed my dark sins, anyone care to share?” Rosalind says, an icy glare to everyone on the table, freezing them to their spot. 

            Fatima cleared her throat before speaking up. Explaining how Moriarty had found out about her real identity, one that was wanted in 27 different countries. He offered her and the people who worked for her protection. She accepted, the deal sounding to good to pass up, and in doing so, Fatima got caught up with Moriarty. Her real identity being threatened to be spilled if she were ever attempted to slip from his grasp.

            As for Alexei, he had a large family to take care of. A three-generation lineage, some members who were still unaware of the real family’s source of income. Moriarty had threatened to kill them all, even the young children, if Alexei ever dared cross him. So Alexei swallowed his pride and agreed to Moriarty’s terms. 

            Yvette explained how she had killed the previous owner of her prostitution ring. If any of her people found about this they would be after her. Moriarty had been called in to help her hide the evidence and the body. He had apparently not only taken care of everything but kept a detailed catalogue and a video of Yvette cleaning herself of the act. 

            Finally, it was Ricardo who had yet to come clean, but he hesitated. The whole room becoming silent as he remained there, staring at the glass of wine in his hands. 

            “Ricardo, it’s your turn.” Rosalind called out to him.

            Ricardo cleared his throat and sighed as he straightened up in his chair. His eyes then glanced up to Sherlock.

            “You know how you deducted my two mistresses?” Ricardo asked Sherlock who just nodded. Ricardo cleared his throat once more. “Well Moriarty found out about them too. He found out that the more dominant of the two, the one you said wasn’t afraid to leave marks, well… he’s a man. I’m bisexual but in Latin cultures, this concept of machismo is deeply ingrained in us, and any gay relations is frowned upon. All of my men, my family… they would disown me if they knew.” 

            Rosalind was shocked by this. The suave Ricardo who was always flirting his way through many woman was also interested in men. She didn’t know how she didn’t catch on to this. 

            “Well this isn’t a place to judge,” Rosalind states, finding her voice. “I believe we’ve all aired out our dirty laundry and what was said in here, will stay in here, understood?” 

            There was a mutual muttering of agreements and Rosalind turned to look at Sherlock. 

            “Now what’s the next course of action?” 

            Sherlock opens his mouth to respond but doesn’t get the chance to say anything when they’re thrown into a pitch of darkness and screams erupt around the room. 


	18. Having Courage and Being Kind... Gets You Nowhere

            The darkness only lasts for a few seconds before the light’s flicker back on. It was in those few seconds of fear that had everyone back to their usual selves. They revealed their true natures and that came to light as the light came back on. Every man was on their own in this room. There was no longer an alliance holding them from killing each other. Knives were being held to each other’s throats’, except for one. Ricardo held a gun, and he was the one with the advantage. 

            “Everyone put the knives down before I start shooting,” Ricardo grits out. Every one of his men had guns pointed to everyone and so the threat was taken seriously. 

            “Ricardo…” Rosalind whispers in shock. She was the only one, besides Sherlock, who hadn’t pulled up a knife, which surprised the detective. “Put the gun down, Ricardo.” 

            “Rosalind, I know you have a knife strapped to your thigh,” Ricardo states as his eyes flicker to her and then back to the rest of the misfits. “I want it on the table. NOW.” 

            “How did you know?” Rosalind asks as she carefully slipped her hand through the slit of her dress and pulls out the small dagger. She throws it on the table and looks up at Ricardo. 

            “Christian told me,” Ricardo answers. 

            “Of course,” Sherlock mutters causing Ricardo to glare at the detective. “Christian is your second lover…it explains the handcuff bruises.”

            Ricardo didn’t respond, but the grip of the gun tightened and it was now pointed at Rosalind’s chest. 

            “Ricardo, there’s no need for this.” Rosalind says more forcefully. “I know Moriarty’s appearance has everyone at edge, but we need to stick together for this all to work.” 

            “You’re so _naive,_ ” Ricardo hisses out as he walks towards her. Sherlock immediately tenses up at this, but Rosalind didn’t even flinch. “You think that we can all hold hands and sing kumbaya so easily. Well, we can’t! That’s not how it works! Moriarty will claim blood if you don’t join his new order and this meeting is a big fuck you to his face. I’m not getting dragged into this bloodshed. I have a wife and a kid on the way. I will not die by Moriarty’s hand!” 

            The movement was so quick that Sherlock had almost missed it. Rosalind had slipped her hand through the slip of her dress again and pulled out a small pistol. She quickly aimed it at Ricardo’s head. 

            “You will not die by Moriarty’s hand, but you might die by mine.” Rosalind responds as she turns off the safety on the pistol to prove her point. 

            “Rosalind, the gun is unbecoming of you.” Ricardo states, trying to use his previous charms to persuade Rosalind. “Put that thing down.” 

            “Why don’t you put yours down?” Rosalind asks him instead. “If you don’t, I’ll make you.” 

            “You forget I’m holding this to your heart.” 

            “And you forget I’m holding this to your _head_.” Rosalind grits out. “Now what will it be?” 

            Ricardo eyes his gun and then looks back at her face. 

            “I…” 

            Rosalind pulls the trigger and Ricardo’s body drops dead to the ground. 

            “Your son and wife will be better of without you.” 

            Rosalind then raises her gun up at the remaining entourage. 

            “If you’ll like to end up like your former boss, challenge me and you will.” Rosalind states. “Otherwise, I suggest you put your weapons down and concede.” 

            “Why should we follow your orders?” one of them pipes in as he points his gun towards her. “You’re clearly outnumbered.” 

            “You kill me, and you sign your death sentence.” Rosalind tells them. “Everyone in this room knows it. It’s stupid that you don’t.” 

            “She’s right,” Alexei pipes in. “You kill her and Moriarty will _kill_ you.”

            “She’s the closest thing to have ever reached his _humanity_ ,” Fatima states. 

            “She’s his,” Yvette tells them. “And _only_ his.” 

            “Rosalind is his favorite toy,” Sherlock found himself saying. “His _pet_.” 

            Rosalind tilted her head at the men at arms and stared at them with a cold stare. 

            “Guns down.” 

            With the simple command, the men placed their guns to the floor and raised their arms in surrender. 

            “Now that that’s settled…” Rosalind begins as she slowly puts her gun down on the table. Her statement is left unfinished as the lights begin to flicker and bodies start to drop dead on the floor. Sherlock quickly pulled her down as body after body fell to the ground. Silence quickly fills the room and the lights turn back on.

            “What the…” Rosalind mutters as she stands up. The room was in a disarray and everyone was bleeding out, dead, on the floor. Gun shot wounds to the head or chest were easily seen. Rosalind was too focused on the bodies that she didn’t notice the message left behind. 

            “Rosalind…” Sherlock calls out to her. 

            “What do you want, Sherlock?” Rosalind exclaims upset that their recent leads were now dead. She looks up at him and quickly finds the bleeding wall. “My God…” 

            Rosalind and Sherlock stood alongside each other with a solemn expression on each of their faces. The wall in front of them only had two words inscribed in the blood from the fallen. 

            _Get Sherlock!_

            The change of her once confident stature is evident. Sherlock could see her transform into a young little girl, afraid of the world beyond her. Her pale face and the shaking of her hands were proof enough. He didn’t understand how this display could cause her to become like this. Just a few seconds ago a gun was placed to her chest and she didn’t even flinch. Now there were two words, two words that meant nothing, and Sebastian had become frozen in fear. 

            “Come on,” Sherlock nudges her as he pulls her away from the wall. “Come on, we have to go.” 

            Sherlock starts to lead Sebastian out of the room and grabs her pistol from the table. He quickly pulls her out into the main ballroom and raises the gun over his head. Three shots ring in the air and the ballroom is filled with instant chaos. Men and women are screaming and running in a frightful panic and Sherlock easily slips them through the cover of the crowd. 

            They were almost out of the building when a chandelier falls a few feet beside them. Sebastian snaps out of her trance and instinctively becomes hyperaware of her surrounding. A whip of air brushes past her and a man behind her is hit in the chest. Sebastian quickly covers Sherlock as they rush past the door.

            More shots are made, more innocent bodies fall to the ground. One bullet grazes Sebastian’s arm and she grimaces at the pain, but pushes through it. Sherlock pushes Sebastian behind him and the shots stop. 

            “Stay behind me,” Sherlock orders her. 

            “That’s bloody stupid,” Sebastian exclaims. “I’m not using you as a human shield!” 

            “Unless you want to end up dead, you will do as I say!” 

            “Why should I…?” Sebastian begins to argue before she falls forward into Sherlock’s back. 

            “Sebastian!” Sherlock shouts annoyed before he turns around and finds her kneeling on the ground. Sebastian wasn’t looking at him, instead her focus was on the heel that she left behind. The heel itself was broken in half, splintered by what could only possibly be a bullet. 

            “Leave it!” Sherlock shouts as he pulls her up. 

            “What?” Sebastian asks a little dazed. 

            “Leave it,” he tells her. “That’s what he wants. Leave it behind.” 

            “Why would he…” Sebastian beings to ask before her mind catches up. “Glass slipper.” 

            “Exactly, now let’s go.” Sherlock tugs her hand and starts to pull her with him. Sebastian followed after him, slightly stumbling with one heel on, sparing one last glance at the broken heel left at the top of the stairs.


	19. Glass Slipper Shattered

         They are cautious enough not to make much noise as they returned to 221B. Sebastian was still bleeding from the graze of the bullet. Surprisingly, Sherlock was tugging her to his apartment in order to take care of it. He lifted her up onto the table counter, her remaining heel falling to the floor. Sherlock sprinted to the bathroom and found the first aid kid John had left behind for him. 

         “You don’t have to do this,” Sebastian tells him as he comes back. “I can do this on my own.” 

         Sherlock ignored her as he soaked a cotton ball with alcohol. He immediately begins to clean her wound and Sebastian remains still. 

         “You’re going to need stitches.” Sherlock tells her, even though he suspected she knew this already. She nods at this and just stares at Sherlock who had taken up another cotton ball to clean up her messy wound. 

         “What happened in there…” she begins. 

         “It was a trap,” Sherlock states. “We knew what we were walking into.” 

         “I meant about what I confessed in there with the others,” Sebastian tells him. “You do know I was lying, right? That none of it was true.” 

         “Is it?” Sherlock asks, not looking up at her. 

         “Excuse me?” 

         Sherlock tilts his head up to her and inspects her. 

         “James and I, we never…” Sebastian starts to say but Sherlock interrupt her. Sebastian was a notorious liar and Sherlock couldn’t figure it if she had been telling the truth or not in that room filled with criminals. 

         “When do the lies end and the truth begin?” Sherlock asks surprisingly calm. “With you, Sebastian, I never know.” 

         Sherlock waited for her response, but she just stared at him silently.

         “Just say the truth, Sebastian. For once in your life, tell me the truth.” 

         “Why does it matter to you if it happened or not?” Sebastian asked him as she clutched the table counter tightly. 

         “Why are you so angry that I'm asking?” Sherlock replies with instead. 

         “Why are you?” Sebastian asks nodding towards his stiff stance. They both stare at each other, gauging the others reaction, waiting for the other to break under the pressure. After a while, Sebastian gives in. She breathes heavily, tugging the alcohol soaked cotton ball out of his hand. 

         “Because whether it happened or not, this defines who I am... and I don't know who I am.” 

         For the first time, Sherlock saw emotional vulnerability flicker in Sebastian’s eyes. She always held some sort of shield up and only let it down when she wanted you to see what she felt. This time, Sebastian’s eyes were brimmed with unshed tears.

         “It doesn’t matter though… you know it to be true. This whole conversation has proved it to you. You want me to deny it. You want to think that I couldn’t be possibly dumb enough to do that, but I was. Sherlock, I was. I slept with James. Even worse, I fell in _love_ with him.” Sebastian shakes her head. “Now what does that say about my character? What do you think of me now?” 

         Sherlock took a step back and looked at her. He took her in from head to toe, and realized the big mistake he made in allowing her to stay. 

         “Get out,” Sherlock whispers as he turns away from her. 

         “What?” Sebastian asks surprised.

         “Get out,” Sherlock repeats once more and Sebastian remained frozen in space. “GET OUT SEBASTIAN!” 

         That startled Sebastian enough for her to trip over her remaining heel on the floor as she ran out of 221B. Sherlock heard her quick steps down the staircase and the sound of her door slamming closed. It was all silent after that and Sherlock’s lungs were burning due to the lack of air. He hadn’t realized he held his breath until now.

         Sherlock finds himself clutching the table counter tightly as he took a deep shaky breath. His eyes land on the remaining heel, the one Sebastian left behind, and finds that she had been right. Moriarty had managed to separate the prince from the princess, but he had done it years ago. 

 __________________ 

         John had come over the next day to hear about last night. He had seen the news of the shooting and wanted to make sure that Sherlock and Sebastian had come out ok. He worried mainly from the primary, but for Mary’s sake, John worried about Sebastian too. The whole apartment was silent and John walked into 221B to find it dark and empty. Sherlock was seated at his usual seat, staring to some unknown distance. 

         “Sherlock?” John asks as he steps in cautiously. 

         Sherlock paid him no mind as he stared in the distance. He was still dressed in his silk pajamas, hands pressed together against his mouth. John turns to leave, ready to come back later, as he presumed Sherlock being stuck in his mind palace. It wasn’t until John had turned that he took notice of the elegant black heel on the table counter. John moves to pick it up, but is interrupted in doing so.

         “Don’t.” 

         John turns to Sherlock and realizes that the heel had been the focus of Sherlock’s distraction. 

         “Sebastian’s heel, I presume?” John asks him in which Sherlock nods, settling back into his chair. “Where is she by the way?” 

         “Why do you think I know?” Sherlock replies annoyed. “I’m not her keeper.” 

         “No, but she is yours.” John replies. 

         Sherlock rolls his eyes at this and his gaze falls onto John. 

         “There is no reason for you to have to stay,” Sherlock states. “Sebastian and I are over. No need for this petty jealousy.” 

         “I wasn’t jealous,” John sighs out. “I was worried… I was worried that this would happen again.” 

         “What?” Sherlock asks confused. “What would happen again?”

         “You like her.” 

         “No, I do not.” 

         John just stared at Sherlock as he took his seat across from him, blocking his view to the heel. 

         “Have a little domestic?” 

         Sherlock rolls his eyes at this and stands up. He walks over to the table counter and plucks the heel from it. He then throws it to John who easily catches it. 

         “Please do return this to her when you go down there to see her,” Sherlock tells him as he heads towards his room. “Make sure to check her bullet wound on her arm. It needed stitches.” 

         John was left alone and the silence returned to its unusual silence. John sighed before making his way downstairs. He stopped in front of 221C and knocked. He didn’t hear anything for a few minutes and John resolved to leave until the door cracked open. 

         “Ah, John…” Sebastian sighs out as she opened the door more fully. “Just the man I wanted to see.” 

         John quickly took notice of the bleeding bandage on her arm. 

         “Why didn’t you call me earlier?” John exclaims as he makes his way inside and lead her into the kitchen. 

         “Because I didn’t need your help,” Sebastian answers as she takes a seat. “I ripped my stitches last night when I went to sleep.” 

         John quickly unwrapped the bandage and sees that she’s right. To his surprise, the stitches were neat, and only a few had torn open. 

         “Needle?” John asks her. 

         “In the bathroom sink,” she answers.

         John quickly enters her bathroom and finds the needle ready to go. The sink had a light pink shade due to the dry blood. He ignores it as he grabs the rubbing alcohol and another gauze to wrap her arm in. 

         He walks back into the kitchen to find Sebastian staring absently at her heel. John had just placed it down without noticing and here was Sebastian looking at it with the same lost focus that Sherlock had. 

         John waited to ask questions after he had taken care of her. He wasn’t surprised that Sebastian didn’t even flinch when the needle had gone through her tender skin. This was probably one of the most minor injuries she had endured. Once John was done with stitching and cleaning the wound did he take a glance at Sebastian. She looked tired and her mind seemed to be elsewhere. John almost decided to let last night go, but Sebastian didn’t want him to.

         “So about last night…” Sebastian starts off. 

         “You don’t have to tell me,” John begins to offer but Sebastian waves him off. 

         “People died,” she states. “Bad people, good people…” 

         Sebastian frowns as she looks up at John. 

         “Sherlock protected me,” Sebastian says in confusion. “And even more trifling, I found myself wanting to protect him too.” 

         John seriously wondered how he managed to meet two people who were so clever and smart, but so incredibly stupid when it comes to emotion. He thought that Sebastian would be better at this. She had gotten along well with Ms. Hudson and Mary from the very start. How could she not realize what was going on with her now?

         “Is that how you got that graze in your arm?” John finds himself asking her. 

         “Yeah, I guess…” Sebastian answers. “It’s nothing.” 

         “It’s not nothing,” John replies. “I’ve never taken a bullet for Sherlock. I don’t think anyone has.” 

         “But I’m sure you would,” Sebastian tells him. “You’re his friend.” 

         “And what are you?” John asks her. 

         Sebastian remains silent as she thinks this over. 

         “I’m just someone he had the displeasure to meet,” Sebastian answers. “I’m sure he hates me right now.” 

         “I doubt it,” John assures her. “Whatever happened last night, it caught him unprepared.” 

         “Well… the feeling is mutual.” 

         John didn’t know whether he should say this to her or not. There was a chance he could be wrong, but John found himself wanting to take the risk. 

         “Sherlock… he likes you.” John tells her. “I think he likes you more than he cares to admit right now.” 

         Sebastian chuckles lightly at this. 

         “You didn’t see him last night, John.” Sebastian sighs out. “He ran me out of the apartment.” 

         “He’s confused.” 

         “Or he’s angry.” Sebastian states with a shake of his head. “But maybe you’re right or maybe I am…He either really likes me or maybe he’s just plotting my murder.” 

         John shakes his head at her, but decides to drop the subject. Sebastian takes the heel in her hand and walks across the kitchen. She presses her foot on the pedal and throws the heel into the trash can. Any trace of the party was gone now and the fairy tale was over. 


	20. Bread Crumbs

 

            A week had gone by and Sherlock and Sebastian never crossed paths. They were both smart enough to schedule around each other. Ms. Hudson was annoyed by their lack of reconciliation since she now had to do two trips of tea and biscuits instead of one. It was taking a toll on her, which she hated to admit it. John and Mary even came to visit them daily, but neither could coax one to join the other.  
            One thing led to the other and a plan was made. It didn’t take much work since Mary had experience in espionage and such. After a few days, Sebastian receives an urgent call demanding her presence at the hospital. With no hesitation, Sebastian made her way there to find Mary at a hospital bed with a nervous John at her side.  
            “What’s going on?” Sebastian asks worriedly as she sits at the edge of Mary’s bed. “Are you ok? Is the baby ok?”  
            “I’m fine,” Mary assures her as she leans her head back onto the pillow. “Just felt very dizzy for a while.”  
            Sebastian turns to John who tiredly nods.  
            “We’re waiting for results as we speak,” John tells her.  
            Sebastian nods and takes a hold of Mary’s hand.  
            “Do you need anything?” she asks. “Water, food, a martini?”  
            Mary chuckles at the last one and shakes her head, but she then grimaces.  
            “Are you ok?” Sebastian asks concerned.  
            “Yeah, yeah… I’m fine. She just kicked.” Mary answers in which Sebastian looks surprised in. “Would you like to…?”  
            Sebastian wasn’t sure how to respond so Mary just tugged her hand to her belly. It took a few seconds for the baby to let out a kick and Sebastian was caught off guard.  
            “Oh wow, she’s got a mean kick.” Sebastian chuckles out. “My god, she’s going to kick so much ass.”  
            “Not if I can prevent it,” John pipes in.  
            Mary chuckles at this before leaning her head back onto the pillow tiredly.  
            “So any names for her yet?” Sebastian asks them.  
            “I like Catherine,” John answers.  
            “Hmm, we haven’t really narrowed it down yet.” Mary answers, showing her distaste for her husband’s choice. “But we’ve got some ideas.”  
            “Well I have one more for you,” Sebastian pipes in. “A perfect name for a girl, one that starts with an S, like…”  
            “I already pitched in Sherlock,” Sherlock says as he steps into the room. “They replied by saying it wasn’t a girls name.”  
            “I was going to say Sebastian,” she answers, not looking up to the detective. “But I’m assuming that isn’t a girls name either even though it is mine.”  
            Mary and John shook their heads at Sebastian whose smile seemed more forced than before.  
            “I should take my leave,” Sebastian tells them. “I have much to do.”  
            “That’s a lie,” Sherlock points out.  
            “How would you know?” Sebastian answers. “I recall you admitting you never know when I’m saying the truth or not.”  
            “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”  
            “Oh but you expect me to explain myself to you.” Sebastian exclaims. “What kind of logic is that?”  
            “You slept with a master criminal!” Sherlock shouts.  
            “You did too!” Sebastian shouts back.  
            “What?” John and Mary asks simultaneously.  
            Sherlock and Sebastian just stared at each other angrily.  
            “I slept with James,” Sebastian confesses, “but Sherlock here slept with Irene, so I think we’re done here.”  
            John stared at Sherlock in shock while Mary did the same with Sebastian.  
            “Nice try, Mary, but this scheme didn’t work,” Sebastian states as she turns to leave the room.  
            “How did she…” Mary begins to ask before Sherlock provided an answer.  
            “The heart beat monitor has been steady this whole time even through the shocking events that have just occurred. That regular heartbeat has been pre-recorded.” Sherlock states before nodding at John and Mary before leaving himself.  
            As this plan failed, another one arose. One created by an unlikely person; Mycroft.  
            John, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson watched from upstairs as both Sebastian and Sherlock headed for the black, un-plated vehicle. Each looked surprised and annoyed by the presence of the other.  
            “What are you doing?” Sebastian asks. “This is my car.”  
            “No, it’s not.” Sherlock replies. “Mycroft called it for me.”  
            Sebastian rolled her eyes and her eyes moved upward to the 221B window. John, Mary, and Ms. Hudson were quick to hide, but Sebastian didn’t miss the slight movement of the curtain. She sighed before motioning Sherlock to enter the car.  
            “Go ahead,” Sebastian states. “I’ll rather walk.”  
            Sherlock had to restrain from growling.  
            “No, you can take it.” Sherlock replies. “I would rather walk.”  
            Sebastian just glared at him.  
            “Are you serious?” she asked him. “I’m trying to be nice and you’ll rather… Unbelievable, you’re a child!”  
            Sebastian doesn’t hesitate and just pulls the door open and steps inside. Right as she was about to slam the door closed did Sherlock step in. Sebastian shifted to the farthest end of the car while Sherlock was pressed as close as he could to the closed door. The car moves forward and everyone is deadly silent.  
            “Do you think they’ll kill each other before they reach Mycroft?” Mary asks them as the car pulls away from the curve.  
            “I hope not,” John replies.  
            Ms. Hudson just shook her head.  
            “What a couple they are,” Ms. Hudson comments. “Reminds me of when I was young and married… oh the fights I would get in with Richard. I’m surprised I didn’t kill the bastard.”  
            This didn’t ease Mary or John’s nerves at all.

__________________ 

            It surprised Sebastian that she or Sherlock hadn’t killed each other on the long car ride. It surprised her more when she found that Mycroft had foregone the random abandoned locations and opted to just hold their meeting at his office. She didn’t realize that Mycroft trusted her enough to enter this high security building. Either way, it didn’t matter what she thought of Mycroft, Sebastian was here for his end of the deal.  
            Sebastian slides the manilla folder across Mycroft’s desk for him to take. Mycroft narrows his eyes at her before taking the folder and looking over the contents. His face immediately turns into a scowl.  
            “This is all you have for me,” Mycroft grits out as he turns over the page which contained only a single sentence typed. “They’re all dead.”  
            Sherlock snorted at Sebastian’s recaption of that night and Sebastian turned to him with a faint grin. Once their eyes locked into one another did the malice return and they turned away from each other with scowls on their faces.  
            “Fine, fine, fine…” Sebastian sighs out. “If you want to know more about that night, you’ll have to tell us about James.”  
            “God, it all makes sense now… Why you call him by his first name instead of Moriarty.” Sherlock grits out. “You never dehumanized him like everyone did. No… you call him James. You made him into a person. You idolized him. Pathethic.”  
            “No, you know what’s pathetic?” Sebastian exclaims. “You slept with Irene who left you once you passed out cold and hasn’t contacted you since.”  
            “How could you possibly know that?” Sherlock exclaims.  
            “Oh please,” Sebastian scoffs out. “Girls talk about their sex lives just like men do. Irene and I were friends, she told me everything.”  
            Sherlock narrows his eyes at her not sure if what she was saying was true.  
            “Prove it.”  
            Sebastian grinned at this, “Oh I will…”  
            “CHILDREN, ENOUGH!” Mycroft shouts as he slams the folder onto the desk. His face was red with anger and Sebastian and Sherlock reeled away from each other and turned to Mycroft in shock of his display.  
            Mycroft takes a deep breath and fixes his suit coat. He organizes his already neat desk before looking up at both of them.  
            “My, my, Mykey…” Sebastian whispers out as she looks up at Mycroft with a dark hint in her eyes. “You just became three times more attractive to me.”  
            “Stop it, Sebastian.” Sherlock scoffs out.  
            “What can I say?” Sebastian responds as she turns to Sherlock. “I’m attracted to intelligence, not education.” She then turns to look at the blushing elder Holmes. “And who doesn’t like a rough dominant partner in the bed-”  
            Mycroft slaps a thick folder onto the desk disrupting what Sebastian was about to say. She couldn’t help but grin in satisfaction as Mycroft opened the file and revealed the contents inside.  
            “Moriarty was in the process of causing 4 political assassinations, 70 assorted robberies, and terrorist attacks including a chemical weapons factory in North Korea,” Mycroft tells them as he pulled out the paperwork for each project. “Oh, and he was also tracking down the black pearl of the Borgias.”  
            Mycroft hands the packet to Sherlock who takes it while Sebastian waves it away.  
            “I could have easily told you that.” Sebastian sighs out.  
            Mycroft narrows his eyes at her.  
            “This was work I had to personally and slowly formulate in the past 2 years.” Mycroft states. “Agents died retrieving this information.”  
            “Well, you should have just asked me,” Sebastian says as she looked down at her manicured nails. “It would have saved you so much time and effort.”  
            “And lives…” Sherlock adds in.  
            “Right,” Sebastian whispers. “Most importantly the lives.”  
            Mycroft knew better than to start an argument with Sebastian so he thought it best to move on from that.  
            “Let’s end this, shall we?” Mycroft asks them and receiving a nod from both of them. “Moriarty’s body was retrieved and stored in this exact facility. It was a day later when the autopsy was to take place when his body disappeared from storage. End of story.”  
            “Security footage?” Sherlock asks.  
            “Tampered with,” Mycroft replies. “They placed the footage on loop.”  
            “How about guards?” Sebastian prompts.  
            “None are situated in the morgue…”  
            “Mistake number one.”  
            Mycroft ignores Sebastian’s jab and continues with his explanation.  
            “But two guards make rounds on each level of this compound.”  
            “Just two?” Sebastian sighs out. “Ugh, mistake number two.”  
            “Ok, since you obviously are smarter than us two,” Sherlock sarcastically states. “How about you tell us how your former boss/boyfriend escaped this place?”  
            “Easy,” Sebastian answers. “The pathologist in charge of the morgue, was it a woman or a man? Wait… it doesn’t matter, James swings both ways. Who was it? I need a name.”  
            “You presume he flirted himself out of there?” Mycroft prompts unamused.  
            “That’s his favorite trick,” Sebastian answers. “Could talk me into anything.”  
            Mycroft grins at this and leans forward on his desk.  
            “The pathologist was no one other than Molly Hooper,” Mycroft answers causing Sebastian’s smile to falter. “I doubt Moriarty could charm himself through her.”  
            “Since when does Molly work for you?” Sherlock asks confused.  
            “Just for that momentary occasion,” Mycroft responds as he sat back in his chair. “There’s not much use of the morgue here except for said occasion.”  
            Sherlock turns to look at Sebastian who is deep in thought.  
            “What do you think of now?” Sherlock asks her. “How did Moriarty escape hell?”  
            Sebastian’s eyes meet his with a glazed look on them.  
            “He followed the bread crumb trail that was left behind.”


	21. Not an Update... Sorry

Hello readers!

I know it's been a long time since I've updated this story and I come here offering an explanation. I've been struggling with work and schoolwork these past few months which is why I primarily stopped writing. After the school year ended, I looked over my works and realized that I didn't like many of the scenes I've placed so I've decided to put the story on hold and edit this book. This is going to take a while and I promise that I will try my best to get all of this done and give you all an update that you deserve. 

Thank you so much for all the love and support! 


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